And Over Again
by devonshire64
Summary: Life..... after the fallout. Add on to my 'Shadow Stalker Trilogy'
1. Chapter 1

This is a very short add on to the shadow stalker series. i dont now how long it will be at this point, but the chapters are very short.

this was written as a b-day present for laineyau. and it basically deals with the boys lives after the Asura.

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 1

Dean bit his lip, his knee seizing up once more as he crept around the old warehouse. The hunt had started out as a simple salt and burn, something the young hunter could have done in his sleep. But well, life wasn't really on his side anymore, not after the past year. He wasn't nearly as healthy as he had been a few years before, his damaged body fighting him at every turn, slowing him down more and more with each passing day. The brace he had tried so hard to throw in the garbage was now something he had to wear everyday, his once shattered knee no longer able to support itself.

He smirked, ducking as a paint can flew his way. Sam had actually tried to see if they could swindle a knee replacement out of the kind people at so and so general hospital. Dean had to have been the youngest person there by a good twenty years, and he couldn't help but feel like a sore thumb. Needless to say, the hospital hadn't been all that willing to dole out surgery, especially to a guy named after a long dead rock singer.

But well, Sammy had tried, and for that Dean was grateful. After everything that happened, everything he had almost lost, the simple fact that his once wayward family was now standing beside him was more than he could ask for. He had been so afraid of losing them, so worried about disappointing them, that he had let it consume him body and soul. And he had paid a dear price in the end. Sam still hadn't managed to control his growing abilities, his mind lashing out at the drop of a hat, the force so powerful that it had knocked Dean clear across the room more than once.

But it wasn't his little brother's fault, and he told the younger man that every time his temper flared. The other trait he had developed was a little less welcome. Sam could sense him, zero in on him, and at times, astral-project to where he was. Giving him a near heart attack on more than one occasion. Dean's end of the deal, though, well that was something he hadn't quite figured out yet. He hadn't let his emotions get as out of control as he had right after the Asura, but, every once in a while, he would slip, and then things would happen.

Sam had even come back from getting dinner to find every mirror in their dingy room shattered, Dean standing, stunned in the center of the room, shell shocked at the destruction he had managed with in no less than thirty seconds. He had fallen, plain and simple, but the pain radiating through his leg had made it nearly impossible for him to gain his footing again, and the idea of sitting on the smelly floor to wait for help was more then the weathered man could face.

But, other then that, his life was better then it had been in years. After all, he had his father and brother back. But, even that didn't last forever. John and Sam had gotten in a shouting match no more than four days after the Traters, and the senior Winchester had left on a hunt a mere week later. But at least this time he didn't just disappear. He dropped by when he could, sending messages when he couldn't. It was a far cry from the promise he had made to his eldest, but hell, it was better than what they had before. And Dean knew to take what he could get when he could. Because he never knew when his number would be up.

He quickly ducked a bit lower, a well aimed hammer hitting the spot his head had been resting on mere seconds before. He had to admit, he was really getting pissed off at this spirit. Not only was it throwing hammers at him, it had also managed to dump a very full can of very lime green pain on him, making him look like a gimpy version of the incredible hulk. He shook the idea from his mind, pushing himself up on shaky legs as he checked out the area.

"Dig faster, Sammy." Dean mumbled under his voice, scanning the large room. The spirit seemed to have taken a break from hurling things at him and he only hoped the thing hadn't figured out what his little brother was up to.

Sam was out digging the grave, something Dean could no longer do, not that he would ever admit that. In all reality, Dean should have quite hunting months before. His body just couldn't handle it anymore. It had become completely impossible for him to straighten his right leg, his knee permanently locked at an odd angle. Even when he laid down, he still couldn't stretch it out without the overwhelming urge to just chop it off and be done with it. But, on the bright side, he always knew when it was going to rain.

He snuck around the corner of the machinery he had been hiding behind, shotgun ready, keen eyes taking in everything around him. He fought off the pain that shook his body with each and every step he took, the stubborn man refusing to admit defeat, even to himself. He had been forced to rely on crutches to walk, and so, he spent most of the time sitting around, ordering his little brother around. He knew he shouldn't let Sam wallow in his own guilt, knew he shouldn't let the kid wait on him hand and foot, but well, he was a big brother, and so, it was really ok.

But, despite himself, Dean had grown used to the crutches, and he couldn't help but feel proud. Yeah, they were limiting, and yeah, it was a constant reminder that he was broken beyond repair, but it was also a testament to his achievements. When he had first been brought to the hospital nearly a year before, he had been told that he would never be able to walk again. The doctor had painstakingly repaired the knee to the best of his abilities, but well, Dean's knee cap had been shattered, and there was only so much a human being could do. But now he could walk and, with the help of his crutches, he could keep up with his long legged little brother. Besides, chicks digged the danger vibe.

Dean continued to skirt the parameter of the room as quietly as he could. The spirit had been so active just a few minuted before and now nothing. But the elder brother knew not to let his guard down until he had been given the signal. He had fallen for Casper's little tricks before and he wasn't about to let it get the better of him again. Almost as though the thing were reading his mind, the attack began again. Dean ducked with only seconds to spare as the blade of a circular saw embedded itself in the wall, exactly where his head had been.

"Son of a bitch." Dean breathed, pulling himself along the floor.

But, just as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, just as he heard the tell tail sound of metal sliding against metal, a scream broke through the heavy air. Dean turned the corner, his curiosity getting the better of him. He knew he should still be taking cover, knew that he couldn't move fast enough to get out of the way if the thing was planning another attack. But well, he was Dean, and really, that was all there was to it. However, instead of seeing another saw blade poised and ready, he watched as the spirit before him began to melt away, disappearing into a puddle of black goo. Seconds later, his phone rang.

"About damn time." He shouted, leaning back against the wall. "What'd you do, take a nap."

"I take it it's gone." Sam's level voice came floating through the phone.

"Yes, it's gone. But only after it through a freaking workbench worth of crap at me."

"Are you ok?" Sam's voice shook a bit on the line, Dean instantly regretting the remark when he felt the air around him begin to grow, a wind blowing from nowhere.

Even at a distance he could still feel the powers that his little brother possessed. And it was dangerous. Sam didn't know what was around Dean, didn't know that the winds he was producing could very easily launch more tools at his brother. No, all he knew was that Dean could be hurt, that he hadn't been fast enough to stop something from happening. And that caused him to lose control every time.

"Listen, Sammy, I'm fine." Dean began, trying to stop the growing torrents around him, all the while seeking shelter. Just in case.

"Dean. Tell me the truth."

"I am, I'm alright. Just knock it off with the Carrie crap, ok."

"What? Did it start there again?"

"Oh yeah, a hurricane's a blowing over here. Just calm down, dude, I'm fine."

"Damn it, I hate this, Dean."

"Well, take a midol and some chocolate."

"Very funny, Jerk." Sam sighed, the winds slowly dying down.

"Bitch." Dean smiled. Even though moments like this were more common then the elder Winchester would have liked, they had both gotten better at controlling it. Hell, a few weeks before Sam had been near comatose when a car nearly killed a slow moving Dean. And he was in the crosswalk!

No, their lives were different now, there was no denying that, the Asura having left an imprint on the boys that no one could ignore. But, when all was said and done they were still Sam and Dean, still Winchesters, and they knew nothing would be able to change that.


	2. Chapter 2

_thank you all for the great reviews, i am glad you are all enjoying this. i originally wasnt going to add another story, but this one is shaping up._

_also, i know this chapter is both short and probably a little depressing. but dont worry, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel and, while i will beat up the boys emotionally for a little bit longer, they wont be down for long. after all, where there's life, there's hope. :) _

_so, right now all might seem lost, but life can surprise you when you really let it. _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 2

Sam wiped the mud and sweat from his forehead, his arms aching as he dug the shovel into the earth once more. He didn't want to leave his brother up there as a distraction, but he knew there wasn't a choice in the matter. Dean couldn't dig, and he couldn't move fast enough to get down the many, many flights of stairs they had been forced to climb on their search for the elusive spirit. That was still the one major hurtle in Dean's path, the one thing he hadn't figured out, no matter how much therapy he had been through. Stairs. Going up them was one thing, but coming back down was a completely different story.

It was more like graceful falling than anything else, and Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cringe every time Dean attempted it. His older brother knew he wasn't supposed to go up and down flights of stairs, but that only seemed to make him want to do it more. It was like he was a toddler defying his parents. Only Dean was twenty-nine, and the only thing he was trying to outrun was reality. But, Sam had to admit, that it was something he was trying to outrun as well.

He knew they should have given up hunting months before, knew he should have made Dean stop pushing himself, told him to sit and relax, and protect his leg just like the doctor had told him. But Sam just couldn't let that happen, just couldn't admit to anyone, not even himself, that his big brother was broken beyond repair. The only choice he really had was a complete knee replacement, and even then his odds of walking without at least a cane weren't good. So, instead of admitting defeat, instead of rolling with the punches and getting on with life, Sam did what any good Winchester would do. He ignored it, pushing it all away and pretended nothing was wrong.

But, in the end it wasn't making life any easier on Dean, or himself for that matter, but he just didn't know how to stop the train wreck that had become their lives. Everything was just spiraling out of control, crumbling away so fast that it was become impossible to rebuild. And, if Sam was being honest with himself, then he had to admit that he was scared to death. He was losing the very ground on which he stood, losing the one constant in his tumultuous life.

Dean was always there, always strong, always his hero, but now he was the one in need of help, the one watching everything he cared about slip away. Dean was an athlete, he was a traveler, a hunter. He wasn't supposed to be hobbling around on crutches, wasn't supposed to have trouble climbing a simple set of stairs. Dean used to chase black dogs and spirits, and now he couldn't even cross the street.

The youngest Winchester felt a spike of fear run through his body, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the sensation. He still couldn't tell if the feelings were his or Dean's, but they still made him dig faster, still pulled Sam back to the moment at hand. He couldn't afford to let his brother down again, couldn't be the one to tell the headstrong older man that, after tonight, he may no longer be a hunter. No, too many of his older brother's hopes and dreams had already been destroyed and Sam knew that he didn't have the strength to hurt him again. And so he dug, pushing away reality and pretending this was just any hunt on any given day, and no the last bit of normal he may ever see.

A few exhausting minutes later Sam stood over the smoldering remains of their most recent supernatural problem. He watched as the fire danced in the grave, licking the bones, turning the skeleton of what was once a man into nothing more then ash. It was what their lives as hunters had become; salt, burn, move onto next spirit and repeat. They could no longer hunt the big things they had become known for, could no longer go toe to toe with vampires and demons. Now they had to pick and chose their hunts very carefully, turning down a lot of jobs that had been a cake walk to them no more then a year ago.

A year ago, Sam just couldn't stop thinking about that one night, that one moment in time that had ended up ruining their entire lives. Had he just kept his cool, had he just closed his eyes and turned away, anything other then throwing that damn tape out the window, then Dean wouldn't be hurt, and neither of them would have to be dealing with the fallout of the Asura. But he had been reckless, had let his anger get the better of him, and now everything he knew was gone because of it.

He pulled out his phone as the last of the embers died away, the night growing cold while the fire flickered one last time in the light winds.

"About damn time. What'd you do, take a nap?"

"I take it it's gone." Sam sighed, relieved to hear his brother's voice again, afraid that, one of these days, he would dial the phone and be met by nothing but silence.

"Yes, it's gone. But only after it threw a freaking workbench worth of crap at me."

"Are you ok?" Sam asked, his fear growing, heart beating faster.

Dean was supposed to call him if anything got out of control. His brother couldn't move fast enough to dodge flying debris. He had told the older man to stay away from anything that could be considered dangerous, and to call him at the first sign of trouble. But he hadn't, he had tried to take the thing on himself, knowing full well that he couldn't. And it was the same thing he had pulled just two short weeks after the Traters.

They had made the mistake of taking on a hunt that was far beyond their new limits. And, as usual, Dean refused to believe that anything about him was different, that he was even the least bit weak. To his credit, Dean had managed to keep up with his brother, but as soon as the things attacked, everything went to hell. And it all ended up with Dean trapped beneath a pile of brick and mortar because he just wasn't fast enough to get out of the way of a falling wall.

Sam's heart beat quickened again as the memory of that night washed over him, the fear eating away at him again, winds growing around him when the image of his brother laying, unmoving beneath the rubble flashed through his mind. The world around the young hunter fell away as he was once more consumed by fear and guilt, his body going numb, mind shutting down as the night grew dangerously around him. He didn't see the trees bend down in the forceful gale, didn't hear the few windows as they blew out along the bottom floor of the building. No, all he knew was that he could have failed again, he could have lost his brother because he wasn't brave enough, wasn't strong enough to give up the only life either man really knew.

"Listen, Sammy, I'm fine." Dean's voice broke through the walls that were encasing Sam. It was the only thing that could bring Sam around at times like these, the only thing he could hear beyond the deafening darkness that had fallen all around him. Every time it happened it was Dean, and only Dean, that could pull him back from the brink.

"Dean. Tell me the truth." Sam spoke levelly, his mind latching onto the voice like a lifeline.

"I am, I'm alright. Just knock it off with the Carrie crap, ok."

"What?" Sam began, the night taking form around him as he followed his brother's voice. "Is it happening over there again?"

"Oh yeah, a hurrican's a blowing over here. Just calm down, dude, I'm fine."

"Damn it, Dean, I hate this." Sam breathed into the phone, making his way back into the building.

He hated that he couldn't control himself anymore, hated what that damn demon had done to him. His powers were bad enough before this whole stupid mess began, and, though he never thought he'd ever say it, he wished for the days when all he had to deal with were visions. At least then he wasn't a danger to anyone around him, the pain effecting him and him alone. But now, well now he was a danger to all those around him, and he just didn't know how to stop it.

"Well, take a midol and some chocolate."

"Very funny, Jerk." Sam smiled despite himself.

They were so far from having this under control that it wasn't even funny, but still, somehow, Dean had managed to make it seem like there was nothing wrong with them at all. Forget the fact that Sam had nearly attacking his brother with his mind, again, or the fact that a few weeks before he had nearly killed an entire street full of people because of one idiot that didn't know how to drive. No, to Dean this was all just a slight nuisance, something that could be laughed off with his trademark smirk. And, despite it all, Sam believed in Dean, and he always would, come hell, high water or freaking demon enhanced psychic powers. No, when all was said and done, Dean would just laugh it off as Sam being a girl and life would be back to a normal Sam had spent over two years searching for. A normal he never realized he had until he learned who his brother really was. And it was a normal that Sam Winchester would defend until his dying breath.


	3. Chapter 3

_thank you all so much for the great reviews, i am so glad you are all enjoying this. this chapter is a bit lighter then the last two, let me know what you all think. :) _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 3

John Winchester sat in his truck watching the scene before him, his heart aching as he stared on across the street. He smiled, more proud of the two men who were now climbing from the car than words could ever say. When they were born, when he looked down into their innocent and trusting eyes for the first time, he had no idea just who they would become. They were both far stronger than he had ever been, and far braver than he thought was possible. They were loyal, and they loved and cared for their family with a ferocity that was sometimes scary. And, in a father's eyes they were perfect.

He smiled as he watched Dean skillfully and gracefully slid from the car, his lean body moving nimbly on his crutches. In all truthfulness, Dean amazed John to no end. The things he could learn, the things he could do, the courage he possessed, everything about Dean that made him Dean was a mystery to the senior Winchester. Well, maybe not totally a mystery. Dean had always been bright and adaptable, feeling at home with both his parents and perfect strangers. But that fierce love, that unwavering protection, that was something he didn't develop until the moment Sam was born.

It was like his eldest son had a new purpose in life, a new goal. And, if John was being honest with himself, Dean took on the role of a parent then and there, six months before Mary had died. She had even mentioned it to John, about three weeks before her death, she said jokingly that they would never need a baby sitter because, even at the age of four, Dean could take care of Sam better than most. And it was the complete and total truth.

But their relationship, like everything in life, was give and take, and Sam gave his brother so much. He gave him more than a purpose, more than a job, he gave him a lifelong friend, a partner in crime, a brother. And that was one of the best gifts anyone could ever give. Sam didn't have to lay down his life, didn't have to come sailing in and save Dean, no, all he had to do was be his brother. And it seemed that finally, Sam saw that.

John laughed to himself, watching the two bicker across the street. Sam was carrying two large grocery bags, Dean following close behind, continually hitting the back of his little brother's knee with one of the crutches. And, one more than one hit, Sam nearly lost his balance. They bickered on like that for the short walk from the impala to their room, and though John wasn't able to hear them, he guessed they were most likely arguing about the food.

The last time he had seen them he was more than amazed when he pulled open the fridge to find salad, yogurt, grilled chicken and fruit, all things that were at the very top of Dean's 'things I don't eat' list. But well, Sam was Sam, and John knew that, whether it was a result of that little boy lost look he did so well, or his never ending stubbornness, Sammy always got his way.

John sighed as he watched the door close, his boys never once noticing the large black truck across the street. But then, his boys never knew how close he was, always looking off to the horizon, sure their father was somewhere far beyond their reach. But, even after Jessica died he had never been far, that was until the Yellow Eyed Demon nearly killed them all with a semi. That had scared John more than anything else in his life. He had almost gotten his boys killed, and he swore to never let that happen again.

And so, he turned to the hunting community, turned to those he thought were friends. He had various people tail his boys, keep tabs on them, make sure they were safe so John didn't have to risk them by getting too close. But even that had blown up in his face. His boys were more precious to him than anything else on earth, and he trusted their well being to a choice few. He thought they were loyal, thought they were honest, but, in the end, the human beings turned out to be just as bad as demons.

Joshua. John couldn't even think his name without becoming ill. He had trusted him with his boys for most of their lives, hell, if anything ever happened he had an ID listing him as their uncle. But, when push came to shove, none of that mattered. Joshua made a deal, lured his children to a hunted highway, and gave them to an Asura. And Dean had almost died right there in John's arms, cold and broken on a forgotten mountain side. And now, now his children's lives were changed forever.

Dean's knee had been shattered and time had not been kind to the injury. And then, Sam had been possessed by that damned Asura for five months, five months and no one noticed until it reared its ugly head and tried to kill Dean again. And his eldest, he had been so afraid of failure, so sure that one wrong step would make him less of a person, that he refused to call John for help. And that single act was like a kick to John's very soul. He still couldn't believe that Dean had pushed him out of his life like that, that he could actually be physically afraid of his own father.

John growled, pushing a stray tear from his eye. He had let his children down, nearly destroyed them, and he needed to fix them more than anything else in the world. They were all he had left, his life, and they were slipping away. Ever since they had killed the Asura, ever since its powers had been transfered to his sons, their lives were lived in a constant state of jeopardy, and John knew it had to stop.

He took a calming breath before pushing open the door, the early morning light filtering dimly through the heavy clouds as he made his way across the street, pounding three times on door number seventeen.

"Dad?" Sam's muffled voice asked through the door, his surprise at hearing his father's tell tale knock not the least bit concealed.

"Yeah, Sammy, open up."

John smiled when the lock turned, his youngest son's stunned face greeting him as the door swung open. He had only been gone for two months this time, but it was two months too long to be away from his children. No, he had already lost nearly twenty five years with them, and he didn't want to lose anymore.

"Christo." Ever since the Asura, Dean spoke that name to each and every person he met, never knowing who or what was waiting around the corner. After all, he had said it as nothing more than a joke all those months ago, and his little brother, his own flesh and blood, had flinched.

"Don't worry, Dean, it's me."

"Just checking."

"Dad." Sam began again, still stunned. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Sam."

"Oh yeah…. Sorry. Uh, hi…… What are you doing here?"

"Is it the Demon?" Dean asked. His voice was strong, but his expressive green eyes gave him away. John knew he was in no condition to hunt it, or even run from it if he had to, and that scared John to no end.

"No. This has nothing to do with hunting."

"Really?"

"I can visit without there being a hunt involved, you know." John cringed inwardly as the words left his mouth. He knew as well as his boys did that his last sentence was a complete lie. Well, up until a few months before it had been a total lie, but he had promised Dean to be a better father, and this time, it was a promise he swore he would keep.

"Yeah." Sam began, finally getting over the shock of seeing his father at the door. "Yeah, of course you can. We were just gonna eat."

"Oh, Dad, run while you still can."

"You know, Dean, you're not getting any younger. If you keep eating nothing but burgers and fries you're gonna give yourself a coronary."

"But I'll have died eating what I love."

"You can learn to love healthier food."

"I swear, Sam, I've been trying, it's not possible."

"You have not been trying, you freaking jerk. You've been making faces and throwing it in the garbage."

"How do you know that's not trying?"

"Actually, boys." John broke in. In all seriousness, he could listen to his boys bicker for hours. Hell, he used to when they were young. He would lay still at night, eyes closed, and listen to his children, listen to them joke, pull pranks, and just drive each other crazy. Because, it was those moments, those conversations that kept him alive, kept him moving forward. If he didn't have his children he more than likely would have put a bullet in his brain the night after Mary died. "Let's go out, my treat. I saw a diner a few blocks back."

"Yes. In your face Veggie-boy." Dean smiled, claiming victory as he hoped up on his crutches. John was again amazed, Dean so proficient on the wooden sticks that you would have thought he was born with them attached to his arms.

It had been so long since he had driven the impala, that John was a little sad the restaurant he had chosen was so close. That moment, there in the impala with Dean sitting shotgun and Sam in the back, well, it was perfection, the way the world should have been. The last time they were together like that, and not racing to the hospital, was when Sammy was seventeen. And god, it had just been too long.

The trio slid into a booth, ordering so much food the waitress actually asked them when they had eaten last. But John just smiled a trademark smile, the same charming smile he had taught to Dean, and told her that he had to feed his growing boys.

They ate in silence for about fifteen minutes before John cleared his throat, his real reason for visiting needing to be discussed. "So, Dean, your knee doing any better?"

John instantly regretted the comment, Dean freezing so fast John thought that maybe time itself had stopped. His eldest immediately lowered both his fork and eyes, his voice nothing more than a mumble. "No. Sorry, Dad."

"Sorry for what?"

"I've been trying to get it back up to par, I really have. I mean, you sent us that info about the wendigo, but we just couldn't do it. I know I should have figured it out by now, but--."

"Dean, stop. That's not what I meant."

"Huh?"

John just looked over at Sam, his younger son's knowing eyes rising to meet him. Dean was blaming himself, treating himself like this was all his fault, like he was sub-human because he had gone and gotten hurt. It was illogical and irrational, and so completely Dean.

"I heard you two went to check out knee replacements at the hospital."

"Yeah, surprisingly enough, they aren't free. Right, Sammy?"

"You know what, it was worth a shot."

"But, you're a candidate, right, Dean?"

"Yeah, I qualify. Why Dad?"

"Well, I called in some favors, and, if you're willing, I think we may be able to do it."


	4. Chapter 4

_thank you all once again for the great reviews, i am glad you are all enjoying this. sorry this wasnt up a little sooner, but i got kind of bogged down in all the medical jargon. _

_hope you all enjoy, as always, let me know what you think. :)_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 4

Dean sat on the exam room table, anxious despite himself. He wanted to get this done, he really did. Right? Of course, right. Hell, there was no reason not to get it done. He needed to be able to hunt again, to be able to watch out for Sam like he was supposed to. As he was now, he was a liability, running the risk of putting his brother in more danger, and he just couldn't have that. No, he needed to get this done, his father needed him to get better, Sam wanted him to get better. And that was all there was to it.

But that didn't lessen the fear that was currently building in his chest. He didn't know what there as to be afraid of, he had had surgery before, many times as a matter of fact, it was something he should have been used to at this point. But something was still just a little bit off, his heart rate climbing slowly as he sat in the cold room, waiting for the doctor, his family standing by his side. He should have been excited, should have been happy, not the worried mess he currently was.

Everything was just coming to a head, the true reality of the past year falling down on him with a weight he could never have imagined. Sam's new powers, and his by some weirdo link, were still far from controlled both lashing out at the smallest things, the most innocent of mistakes. And Dean couldn't help but wonder what would happen if they were able to go on larger hunts again. After all, Sam had gone all spoon-bender on him because some flying objects happened to soar in his direction. What would happen if next time, it was something far worse?

The memory of the Traters floated back to him, the images of that cold basement playing before his eyes like a bad movie. He had seen Sam then, seen the emptiness in his eyes, felt the power radiating from him, rolling off of him in visible waves. True, both Sam and John thought he was dead, but that power, that break in his little brother was terrifying. Because, in all honesty, Dean knew what Sam was capable of, knew just how strong he could be.

He had seen it in Montana while his brother was possessed, had seen what the Asura could do with the younger man's powers, and it was something that would stay with the older hunter for the rest of his life. Because, it was then that he realized his little brother was no longer the small child that had run home from school with straight A's, or had asked him so innocently a few short years ago, if he was proud of him for getting into college. No, the Sam he saw in Montana was different, darker and stronger than Dean ever imagined possible. And it scared him.

But, even that didn't explain the trepidation Dean currently felt. It was like standing on the edge of a precipice, every instinct telling him to stay, to stand his ground, but all his heart and soul wanted to do was back away from the danger. And, though Dean would never admit it, to himself or his family, the reason for his fear was staring him in the face. The truth was that there was a very real possibility this wouldn't work, and after that, he would be all out of options.

He couldn't let his family down again, couldn't see the disappointment in his father's eyes if, after spending thousands upon thousands of dollars they didn't have, and calling in every favor they could, this didn't work. The other doctors had been honest with him, his injury so bad that, even with the miracles of modern science, he may be broken beyond repair. And that wasn't something he wanted to hear, ever.

At that moment he still had hope, still held onto the possibility that this could all be fixed, that he could get better. But, having the surgery took away that little bit of hope, forced the situation into clear cut black and white, the gray uncertainty gone in a heart beat. And that was why Dean was afraid.

He was pulled from his silent torment by the creak of the door, his newest doctor appearing before him, his salt and pepper hair combed back neatly, wire framed glasses resting on his nose. Literally, he was everything most people thought doctors should look like, and Dean couldn't help but laugh. It was almost like the guy jumped right out of the pages of a book.

"Dean Miller?"

"Yeah." Dean spoke up, clearing his throat, but it was Sam that stepped in.

"So, Doc, when can we get started?" Sam asked eagerly, and his excitement washed over Dean, lessening the fear and tension that had laid claim to his body.

"I think I'd like to speak with Dean alone." The doctor began smoothly, his voice drowning out what little comfort Dean had found. This definitely didn't sound good.

"No." Dean began, his voice breaking a little. "No, I want them to stay."

"Alright. I'm Dr. Marks, I'm the orthopedic surgeon that will be handling Dean's case." The middle aged man began, extending a hand to each in turn.

Dean knew he was being polite, knew he was trying to calm his patient, but, damn it, he was just making it worse. Dean didn't like waiting, he didn't do waiting, waiting was very, very over-rated. And that's exactly what this man was making him do, wait, and Dean was getting edgier the longer he sat there.

"Now, Dean, you said you fell?"

"Yeah, eight months ago."

"And you had to have your knee partially rebuilt. I see that, along with a fractured knee cap you also tore your ACL and MCL ligaments."

"Yeah, they were replaced with cadaver ligaments." John added, speaking for the first time, his hard eyes on the doctor.

Dean shiver as his father described the surgery, the idea of some dead guy's ligaments holding his knee together was an image he didn't want to have.

"I understand that you have probably been through all this with your other doctors, but I would like a full picture of the condition before we go any further."

"What do you mean, 'any further'? I thought you said I was a candidate." Dean couldn't help the pain in his voice, couldn't help the disappointment that shined through. After all, this had been his only chance, his light at the end of the tunnel, and now it was slipping away.

"Technically, Dean, you are a candidate. But, knee replacement isn't the quick fix everyone thinks it is. And, there is a very really possibility that it isn't right for you."

'I can't walk, how can't it be right for me?"

"The main problem with your injury is your tendons. In your accident you tore your quadriceps and patellar tendons. These tendons, along with your quadriceps muscles allow your leg to straighten. And obviously, that is no longer possible.

"Now, during knee replacement we will remove the damaged cartilage in your knee and replace it with a synthetic material. It should lessen the pain and allow you a greater range of motion, but it will not be the same as it was before the accident. You will have to limit stressful activities, mainly running, and try not to over exert yourself. Also, you will still be unable to straighten your leg completely, and since you are young and very active, you will more than likely have to get the knee replaced again in anywhere from ten to twenty years.

"I know you all came in here looking for a quick fix, and I'm sorry, but I can't give you that. There are risks involved and the knee will not be the same as it was before. With any luck, you should be able to walk without crutches and only a minimal amount of pain.

"Now, there are also complications that I would like to discuss. Along with the regular problems after surgery like blood clots and infections, there are also several complications that go along with a knee replacement. If the new components aren't aligned properly, then your knee will be unstable and you will need another surgery to repair the problem. A problem with the alignment could also cause you knee to dislocate easily.

"What I said before is very important, Dean, so I will say it again. You will not regain the full range of motion you had before the accident. You also won't be able to be as active. You will more than likely be able to walk with little or no pain, but strenuous activity is going to remain off limits. Now, do you have any questions?"

"Even with everything you just said, if I get this replacement, I can still walk, still go up stairs?"

"Yes, you can still walk, though stairs may cause you some pain."

"But, I won't need the crutches anymore."

"Only time will tell. Like I said, the injuries to your knee were very severe. The only thing I can guarantee is help managing the pain and making daily activities a little easier."

Dean looked around the room, his heart sinking when his gaze fell on Sam and John. They had all be waiting for a miracle, waiting for the last eight months of their lives to be erased. But now, as the doctor's words slowly sank in, he realized that nothing would ever be able to accomplish that. He was still injured, and it was something he would have to deal with, just as Sam still had his ever strengthening powers. But, at least this was something, at least he would have tried, and, in the end, that's all Dean could really do.

"How soon can we do it?"

"I want to get more x-rays and run some more tests, but I can have it scheduled for three days from now, if that is alright with you."

"Yeah, Doc, that's great." Dean smiled weakly, the surgeon nodding to each man before leaving the room.

The middle Winchester let out a long, slow breath, his eyes closed, mind trying and failing to shut down. He didn't want to think anymore, didn't want to worry. He just wanted it all to go away, to wake up and find his life back in one piece, back to normal. But, as it turned out, even the miracles of modern science couldn't make that promise.


	5. Chapter 5

_hello everyone. sorry for the long wait, but life has been crazy this past week. thank you all so much for the great reviews, i am glad you are enjoying this story. as always, let me know what you all think of the next chapter. :)_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 5

Sam paced the room, the last three days having gone faster than any in his entire life. He had gone over everything at least a hundred times, reading every medical journal and health article he could get his hands on. In truth, he had been hoping for a miracle, been hoping that his life would be back to normal, or whatever normal they had before they stumbled upon Shadow Pine Highway. But now, well now everything was slipping away from him, his last chance dashed by the simple words of a surgeon.

He wanted his brother back, wanted Dean to be whole and healthy, not what he was now. He knew he was being selfish, knew he was asking reality to morph in ways it never could, but he didn't care. He had had so much taken from him over his short life, and he refused to lose anything else, even if it was just his brother's mobility. Because, in truth, it was more than that. It wasn't just Dean's ability to walk at stake, it was his very soul.

Sam knew this was killing his big brother, breaking down the man he had once seen as indestructible. Yes, he was eight years old when he thought that, but apart of that logic never left his mind. Dean was his big brother, his hero, he wasn't supposed to be broken. He wasn't supposed to have his entire future taken away before he was even thirty, wasn't supposed to be the one that needed help. He was Dean, but fate just didn't seem to be able to see that.

"Sam. Sit down." John's voice broken into his youngest son's mind, shattering the thoughts that were racing around his jumbled mind.

John was sitting in the corner, near the head of Dean's now empty bed, his journal in his hands. To his credit John had been studying the case, too, looking for some way, anyway to help his son. But, while Sam searched through medical journals and pamphlets, John had been searching through his journal, and books on mythology.

Sam almost had to laugh, both he and his father researching the hell out of the problem in their own ways. Sam with his logic, and John with his hunting instincts. But, no matter what either did, Dean's life and future were still in the hands of the doctors, whether they liked it or not.

"I can't."

"Try."

Sam took a deep breath, his nerves reaching their end. But he knew fighting with his father wouldn't accomplish anything other then straining them all further. Dean was going to need them there, working together, when he came out of surgery. Sam had been over everything with the doctor, asked about every complication, everything he should expect when he saw his battered brother again.

He was going to be in pain, and he would remain so for quite some time. But he also had to move around, had to use his knee, had to work at gaining movement in it again. If not, then the surgery would be worthless. He couldn't and wouldn't let Dean slip, wouldn't let him give up halfway through, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief knowing his father agreed with him.

John had spent the last three days making up a workout routine for Dean, insisting that he get back to training as soon as he could. Sam still felt a little embarrassed about the whole thing though. On the first day he had gotten into a shouting match with his father over the schedule, telling the older man that it was too much work, that he was only going to hurt Dean further. He had even gone so far as to take the schedule and show it to the doctor, much to his older brother's amusement. Yes, he had overreacted, and telling on his father probably wasn't the smarted move, but that didn't mean Dean had to spend the remained of his pre-surgery time making fun of him.

Sam through himself down on the end of Dean's empty bed, his long legs swinging back and forth, kicking the underside of the bed. He heard his father mumble something but Sam just couldn't make himself sit still.

"I think I preferred the pacing."

"I'm sorry, I just can't sit still."

"I see that. He'll be fine, Sammy, stop worrying."

"Yeah, yeah you're right." Sam began scrubbing his face. He had only been sitting for a total of three minutes and he already felt the need to get up and move. "I think I'm gonna head down to the cafeteria for some coffee."

"Well then I think you need to steer yourself towards the decaf."

"Very funny."

"Sam, I mean it. You have to relax. You're not going to be any good to your brother if you give yourself a nervous breakdown."

"I know, it's just. None of this should be happening, Dad."

"Sam." John began, his tone warning. They had discussed this over and over again, and nothing would change.

"A god damn tape, Dad. A stupid freaking tape is what did all this."

"Sam, this isn't your fault."

"If I just hadn't thrown it, if I had just ignored him, he'd be perfectly fine right now."

"You have no way of knowing that. Joshua lured you two there, trapped you there. Whether you'd thrown the tape out the window or not, that Asura still would have taken you two."

"But he would have gotten us together. Dean wouldn't have fallen, wouldn't have been left alone on that god forsaken mountain for over a day. I wasn't there for him, Dad. He needed me, and I wasn't there."

"Sam."

"Look, Dad, can we please just not talk about this right now." Sam began, a headache growing behind his eyes. He just didn't know how his dad couldn't see that this was all his fault.

"Fine. I'll give you a call if the doctor comes back."

"Thanks, Dad." Sam sighed, pulling the door open. He needed to get some air, needed to get away from the small room, to get away from the suffocating silence that was all around him. In a few short hours, his entire life could be changed forever.

Sam wandered down the halls, not really heading in any specific direction. He just didn't think he could sit still for longer than a few seconds, his mind so overloaded with information he was sure it would explode. This was all just so wrong and all he wanted was to find some way to fix it all. But this wasn't a hunt, wasn't something he could research away, erase with a simple salt and burn. This was something he had no control over, no way of stopping the inevitable. And that was killing him. Dean had always been there for him, had done so much for him over the years, and now he couldn't return the gesture.

And, as he walked, the memories of the last year flooded over him again. His head began to spin as the images flashed. Waking up in the car, alone, nearly twenty fours hours after Dean had left it. Seeing his brother laying still in the grass, seeing Dean's throat slashed by Joshua, his screams as the Asura torn him apart. It all ran through his mind. The Asura using him, killing people, hurting his brother.

He swayed, his long legs carrying him quickly towards the door, the walls closing in as the memories continued to plague him. The silent car rides. The muted conversations. The images of Dean, laying frozen and broke, at the hands of the Trater sisters, so close, yet too far to help. And then the gunshot, the sickening sound of his brother's life as it was nearly stolen from him, the older man's body falling to the ground before Sam's eyes.

Sam through the door open, wind blowing back his hair, pushing against him as he pushed out into the open air, the overcast skies hovering over him ominously. He fell down into the grass of the small, thankfully empty courtyard, his head spinning, mind aching. He didn't notice the wind that grew all around him, couldn't comprehend anything other than the images flying through his mind.

Dean deserved so much more than he ever got. He had given his entire life, everything he was to those around him, and he had gotten so little in return. He gave up his dreams to be with his family, and they had both turned around and left him. And Sam knew that he was the reason his brother was now in surgery. Dean had recovered after leaving Washington, had been able to walk, been able to hunt. But then the Asura had shown its face, unleashing Sam's hidden powers, and directing them at Dean.

It was then that Dean's knee was truly damaged, the moment Sam threw him into a wall, the moment he was forced to wade through waist deep snow to find his missing brother. It was all that that had brought this on Dean, and it was all his fault. And that, John didn't know. He and Dean hadn't told their father everything that had happened, had promised each other to leave the past in the past and move on. But the problem was that Sam couldn't move on.

He was a danger to his brother, a danger to everyone around him, and he didn't know how to stop it. The winds around him continued to grow, the youngest Winchester completely unaware of the gale that had wrapped itself around the hospital, the torrents that had sent people scurrying back into the building. No, the only thing Sam knew, the only thing he could comprehend was his own failure, his own shortcomings. This was all his fault, all his doing, and Dean was paying the unlimited price.

"Hey. Hey, buddy." A voice broke through Sam's tormented mind, pulling him back to the small courtyard, back to reality. He hadn't heard the door open, hadn't seen the man run towards him, hell, he couldn't even feel the grass he was kneeling on until the man spoke to him.

"Buddy, there's a pretty big storm building. They're calling everyone inside."

"What?"

"You gotta get inside." The man yelled again, grabbing Sam by the arm.

Sam stood and followed, not really wanting to go inside, but not wanting the stranger hanging over him either. The hospital was too small, with too many people milling about, waiting for word on their loved ones, and on their futures. It wasn't a place Sam wanted to be, wasn't a place he thought he could be. He was the reason his family was broken, and he had been the reason since he was six months old.

A bolt of lightning crashed outside the hospital, the lights flickering momentarily as the thunder rolled. But Sam didn't see any of it, hear any of it. The powers he had tried so hard to ignore, to wish away, had taken him over and, for the first time since the Asura, Dean wasn't there to stop it.


	6. Chapter 6

_hello everyone. thank you all once again for the great reviews. i am so glad you are all enjoying it. as always, let me know what you think of the newest chapter. :)_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 6

John sat in the hard plastic chair, the worn journal open on his lap, mocking him. For twenty five years he had had it, relied upon it, turned to it in times of darkness. But now, when he really needed it, when one of his children's lives was hanging in the balance, it was nothing more than a bundle of useless paper. There was nothing in it about helping Dean, not that there would be, but he had still hoped. He had hoped when Bobby phoned in, telling him he could arrange the surgery, had hoped when he saw the light in his eldest son's eyes at the idea of being cured. And he had hoped when he sat in the small examine room, waiting for the doctor. Yes, he had held on to his hope all that time, held on to the possibility of a miracle. And then the surgeon had opened his mouth, had told them the awful truth.

And it was then that John Winchester turned to his journal. When he turned to the world, to the lifestyle that had stolen so much from him in the first place. But, like a kick in the gut, the supernatural offered no help to him either. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, like he was finally losing his balance, falling from the line he had been balancing precariously for the past twenty five years. And it wasn't fair.

None of what Dean had to suffer was his fault, and, had he just been born to a different family, his life would be safe and normal. He wasn't one of the children the Yellow Eyed Demon so desperately craved, and he wasn't the trained soldier who's wife was stolen in the dead of night. No, he was just a small child who followed his father with a blind obedience, and this was where it had led him. He was broken and battered, his soul ripped and sewn back together so many times that John feared one more tear would destroy it forever. And, it was all his fault.

He was supposed to be Dean's father, supposed to be his protector. But he had neglected that duty long ago, had placed the weight of the world on the shoulder of a child still in preschool. And, every time he looked at Dean, he saw the outcome of all his mistakes. Because, he had taken the brunt of every failed hunt, every misjudged turn, every nosy neighbor. Dean had taken it all, so his little brother and broken father wouldn't have to. And that very thought broke John's heart.

Dean had been amazing. From the first moment he was born that was the only way John could describe him. While Sam had been the typical baby, fussing at all hours of the night, burping up on anything and everything in sight, and getting into more mischief than a whole herd of infants, Dean had been the opposite. He slept threw the night almost from the beginning, and he rarely if ever cried. John had even gotten into the habit of shaking him awake at night just to make sure he was still breathing, that was, until Mary made him stop.

But even then, even after being awoken in the dead on night, Dean wouldn't cry. He would just look up at his father with wide, inquisitive eyes. And, if babies could talk, he was sure Dean would be saying. 'What do you want now, Dad.' John had to smile at the memory. Dean was born with that smart alec smirk plastered across his face, and, from day one, Mary called him a heart breaker. But, it was something else Mary said, something she realized not even two months after their oldest was born. And, looking back, Mary had hit the nail on the head with her statement.

John could still remember the exact moment, Mary standing still and silent by the door of the nursery, her long hair flowing softly down her back, nightgown flowing in the breeze from an open window. She just stood there, watching her son as he slept, listening to the baby's soft little snores, humming a lullaby John wished he could remember. And then, out of nowhere, she spoke, her back to her husband, voice full of pride and love.

_"He has such and old soul, John."_

She turned then, smiling serenely as she headed off to bed, asleep before John even made it back to the room. But, to this day, he had never forgotten those few short moments in time, that nameless night that now seemed like a lifetime ago. Because, it was true. Dean was born with an old soul, was born with more peace, and more understanding than most people on earth. And he turned all that love, all that hope, all that peace towards his family, giving up everything he could have had, everything life could have been, for his small little family.

And suddenly, John understood why Dean gave so much, and why he never complained. Because Dean saw the world with different eyes than both he and Sam. While John and Sam searched for revenge, searched for the dream life, looked towards the end of the journey, Dean lived in each and every moment. He never waited for the grand moment, never lived for the dramatic curtain call. No, he lived for the simpler things in life, the things that, while they may only last a moment, could be cherished for a lifetime.

That was the difference between his boys, that was what set Sam and Dean apart. They were so much alike in every way, except that one glaring difference. Sam shot for the stars, while Dean was completely content with his life on solid ground. Sam was the dreamer, while Dean was the realist, and that one small difference was what set them on their separate paths. And, it all suddenly made frightening sense. Sam hadn't been disobedient while Dean was the perfect solider. Sam went to school because he wanted to move on to bigger, better, grander things. Dean stayed behind because well, he was perfectly happy with the life he was living. He had his family, and he had a job that meant something to him, and in the end, that was all he ever wanted.

And he and Sam had gone and turned their backs on it all, had walked away from the one thing that had kept them safe since the fire, the one thing they needed more that anything. They had walked away from Dean, thinking he had the same lofty goals as them, the same grand dreams. John thought he was doing what was best, letting his eldest finally live his own life. And it wasn't until now, wasn't until Dean was laying on a hospital bed, broken, that he realized how big a mistake he had actually made.

John was brought back to the present when the lights began to flicker, his hunting instincts taking control, keen eyes searching the room for any sign of danger. It wasn't until his eyes landed on the small window that he noticed the storms, the lighting and thunder crashing so loud, it shook the building. He quickly made his way to the small window, watching the dark sky beyond. The weather man had predicted peaceful days, not a cloud in the sky, but what was going on just beyond the glass was definitely something different.

It looked like a hurricane had descended upon the small midwestern town. The winds were blowing so fierce that trees were bend double while street signs rattled and rolled down quickly flooding streets. The lights overhead flickered again, flashing momentarily before blacking out, sending the hospital into instant darkness. John's heart skipped a beat as another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, the back up generators still refusing to kick in. Dean was in surgery, cut open in the middle of all this, and, without lights, he was going to go downhill very, very quickly.

But, as soon as the thought crossed his mind, as soon he pictured Dean's heart failing right along with the equipment around him, the light flashed back on. And, while they were considerably dimmer, at least they were on. John turned his eyes momentarily back to the window, watching as people rushed back and forth from the hospital, pulling people out of flooding cars, racing inside as they were battered by flying debris. In all reality, it looked like a war zone. But John couldn't be bothered with that now, he had to find Sammy, and then he had to find Dean.

The entire building shook again as the thunder rolled, the winds butting up against the sides of the old structure with such force that John was sure the walls themselves would give away beneath the torrents. He dialed Sam's number quickly, racing through the now panic filled halls, searching for a nurse, doctor, hell anyone that could tell him how Dean was doing. He cursed, pocketing his phone when Sam's voicemail picked up.

"Of all the times for Sam not to pick up his phone." John mumbled, turning another corner, and running full speed into the end of Dean's bed. "Oh god, Dean!"

"Mr. Miller?" The doctor began, and much to John's dismay, he looked just as terrified as everyone else.

"What's wrong, what happened to him?"

"He regained consciousness after the power failed. We were finished with the major surgery, but we didn't have time to stitch him up properly."

It was then that John noticed not only the huge pile of bandages and gauze wrapped tightly around Dean's right knee, but also his half-mast and searching green eyes.

"Dad?" Dean's voice was barely more than a whisper behind the mask, his eyes sliding closed as he spoke.

"Really, Mr. Miller, we have to get him back to his room, and now. I don't want to run the risk of his knee getting infected."

"Yeah, alright." John nodded, turning back in the direction from which he had come. But, before he could take a step, he felt his son's weak hand wrap around his arm. "Dean?"

"Sammy." Dean breathed, his body finally giving out. "It's Sammy."

And suddenly the frightening truth took him over. The storms, it was Sam.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey everyone. sorry this chapter took so long, my life has been a little crazy. thank you all once again for the great reviews, they really make my day. as always, let me know what you think of the newest chapter. _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 7

Dean laid on the hospital bed, pain radiating through his body and fear pumping through his heart. This was all Sam's doing, he could feel it deep down in his soul. Sam was lost, alone and afraid, in the middle of the storms, and Dean had no way of getting to him. It was something he had been fearing ever since they learned of Sam's new power, ever since he nearly destroyed an old cannery with his mind. And now, well now an entire hospital stood in the path of his little brother's torment and guilt.

Dean could feel the emotions running through his brother almost as clearly as he could feel his own. Sam was hurting, broken and falling, and all Dean cared about, all he could think about was stopping it. But he was trapped in the hospital bed, his leg half stitched, half bandaged up, and Dean wasn't sure if there was enough morphine in the world to take away his agony. But still, Sammy trumped all. Dean laid still and silent for several long moments, breathing as slow and evenly as he could, waiting for his nerves to calm enough to move. He knew he was only half through surgery, knew that his knee was still a bloody mess of tendons, and ligaments, but he didn't care. Sam needed him and, in all honesty, Dean needed him, too.

Screw the bandages around his knee, screw the infections, his brother was lost, hurting, alone, and he needed to find him. Dean could feel every emotion as it ran through his brother's tormented mind, his own heart aching with that of the younger man. Each crash of lightning sent a shiver through Dean's injured body, his heart beating in time with the rain, wind racing through his mind with the same ferocity as Sam's thoughts. He had to get out of that bed, had to get to his brother, had to let him know he was ok, that he was safe.

Dean could hear his father's voice from just beyond the door, hear the doctor's responses, but none of that mattered. He had to get to his brother, and he didn't care if he had to chop off both his legs to do it. None of them had any idea what these attacks would do if left to run too long. Hell, the first time Sam had thrown their father around like a rag doll, and the second time, well the second time Sam had nearly annihilated an entire street full of innocent people. And now, an entire hospital was standing in his way.

It seemed like every time Sam lost his cool, every time he feared that Dean was beyond his reach, injured and dying because of a mistake he made, that his wrath got stronger. First it was just a room, then a street, and now an entire building. And Dean knew that it had to stop. But he just couldn't figure out how to get through to him, how to break him out of the rut he had fallen into after the Asura. It was like everything his brother had worked so hard for all his life was gone, and Dean was left with nothing more than a shell of Sam.

His little brother had tried so hard to be normal, prided himself on being good, on being honest. And then that thing had possessed him and erased it all in a matter of hours, for no reason other than it was fun. Sam's powers had been used to kill, to destroy lives and, even though his little brother wasn't in control of his own body at the time, Dean knew that he still blamed himself for everything. And that simple fact, that overwhelming sense of guilt and failure was destroying them both.

"Dean." John began, closing the door behind him and pulling Dean from the torrents that had become his mind. "How do you know this is Sammy?"

"I can feel him." Dean began, breathing slow and even as he tried to focus what little strength he still possessed. "We have to find him."

"There's no we, buddy, you're staying put."

But, before John had a chance to react, Dean made his move, stifling a cry as he forced himself to sit, sliding his left leg over the side of the bed, his right barely moving.

"Dean, what the hell. Lay down."

"No." Dean began, his head spinning with a mixture of medication and his little brother's channeled emotions.

"Dean, that's an order."

"I don't care." Dean mumbled, the bathroom mirror shattering as he slowly slid his right leg across the bed. Dean knew he was disobeying a direct order, but at that moment he couldn't have cared less. Sam was hurting, and all Dean could do was help him, whether his father wanted to or not.

But John wasn't having any of it. He moved around the bed far quicker than his injured and doped up son, pushing Dean back against the pillows, the younger man struggling weakly beneath his hand. Dean didn't understand why his father refused to help him, refused to let him get to Sam. He was supposed to protect him, supposed to keep him safe, how in the world had his dad forgotten that. Sammy was his responsibility, his job, why wasn't John letting him take care of him. What had he done wrong?

"Dean, please." John began once his son had stilled, his small reserve of energy completely drained. "You're no good to Sam if you're not healed up."

"But, dad."

"No buts."

Dean just laid there, his heart and mind screaming, blood pumping through his veins so hard that it was making it nearly impossible for him to hear. He couldn't and wouldn't let Sam suffer alone, that was not an option, no matter who or what said otherwise. Hell, if it came down to it, Dean would kick both fate and his father's asses if that's what it took to save Sammy. Because what was the point of being linked if it couldn't help them. And then, like a wrecking ball, it hit him. Sam had come to him when he was trapped at the cannery, so maybe, just maybe, he could do the same thing now.

Dean closed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he could on his brother, listening for the sound of his voice, the tell tale echo of his footsteps, the pattern of his breathing. He tuned out his father's voice, tuned out the pain, the beeping of the machines all around him and listened for nothing other than Sam. He focused on what Sam had been wearing the last time he saw him, on the way he looked every time he was taken over by one of these attacks. And, slowly but surely, as the high pitched blare of the machines and his father's frantic voice drifted away, Dean saw Sam.

And suddenly, before Dean could even really contemplate what was going on, he was standing beside his brother, both legs strong and whole, though he still felt strangely hollow. The elder Winchester scanned the area around his brother, trying his best to figure out where the younger man was hiding. Sam was sitting on the ground, back against a low stone wall, knees pulled up to his chest, head down. His shaggy hair was hanging around his face, pressed to his head by the deluge of rain that was pouring down all around him. And, as Dean stared long and hard at the shaking form of his brother, he realized where the broken man was. The roof.

"Sammy." Dean began, surprised when Sam's head shot up immediately.

"Dean?" His little brother questioned, red rimmed eyes staring at him with a mixture of fear and confusion. "Oh god, Dean. Please, no. I'm so sorry, I can't stop it. Please, no."

"Sam, what's wrong."

"I killed you."

"No you didn't. I'm back in the hospital room."

"No, you're standing here, and you shouldn't be."

"I'm doing that thing you did at the cannery."

"What?" Sam shouted, standing up faster than Dean thought was even possible, a wave of terror running through his body as the lightning crashed fiercely overhead. "You can't do that."

"I'm doing it right now."

"Go back, Dean. You have to go back. I almost killed myself before and I wasn't just coming out of surgery."

Even though his little brother was still yelling at him he made his way back into the building, his long legs carrying him so fast that Dean, or the spirit of Dean, or whatever the hell he was at that moment had to jog to keep up. But, despite all that, he was back in control, the storms slowly dying away as Sam moved through the hospital halls. Sam had something to focus on, something to take his mind off the depression, off his self imposed failure. And, that little bit of focus was enough to rein in his powers.

"Mission accomplished." Dean mumbled, smiling at his brother's retreating back. He closed his eyes, completely content to fall back into his hospital bed and sleep for a month, or maybe two. His nerves were still frayed, his little brother's emotions still running fast, but they were both under control and, even though it was more like controlled chaos, Dean would take what he could get.

However, instead of opening in eyes to see the ceiling of his hospital room, waking to feel the pain he knew was radiating through his leg, he found himself still standing in the hall where Sam had left him, the code blue siren blaring overhead.

"Damn it." He cursed under his breath, watching as a number of doctors and nurses ran around the hall, all heading towards his room.

This wasn't really what he'd been expecting when he tried reaching out to Sam, but then, he hadn't been thinking about anything other than finding the younger man when he tried it, so he really couldn't be surprised. After all, he hadn't been there when Sam did it, he just saw the consequences. But he had really, really been hoping that it wouldn't be all that difficult. But then, when was anything in his life ever easy.

He jogged down the hall, afraid to see what was happening in his room, but unable to keep himself away. He didn't want to see the disappointment on his father and brother's faces, didn't want to see the loss echoing in their eyes. He had screwed up so many times, let them down on so many occasions, but for some reason, neither of them could ever let him go. They'd both pulled him from death's door, stepped in the way of fate to save him, and why? Because his father couldn't hunt without him? No, John had proved that statement wrong time and time again. Because Sammy needed him to protect him? Not really. The longer Sam hunted, the stronger he had become. And now that he embraced it as his inevitable future, he was almost unstoppable.

No, there was really no logical reason for both men to fight so hard to keep him alive. And Dean just couldn't understand why they both gave everything they had for someone neither of them really needed.

Dean was about to turn into the room when a sharp pain shot through his entire right leg, making him scream out in pain as he fell to the cold floor. Before he could get his mind around the pain, it happened again, shooting through his knee like someone was stabbing him. As he sat there he could feel the cold tiles beneath his hand, but he could also feel the warm blankets against his back. It was surreal to say the least, his spirit being forced back into his body as he sat, the comfort of nothingness slipping away as the pain of his half finished surgery returned with a vengeance.

He leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to fight back the nausea and pain that was seeping through his body. It was nice to feel nothing, relaxing to not worry, to have no fears. And what kind of life would he really be returning to anyway? The doctor said that this was no miracle cure, hell there was a possibility that it wouldn't even work. So what, he'd hobble around the rest of his life, knowing that, if anything ever came to take Sammy again that he would be nearly powerless to stop it?

Yes, it would be so much easier to just let go, fade away, give in. But then, Sam and John had fought so hard for him, given up so much to keep him alive, and try as he might, Dean just couldn't disappoint them. And so, instead of following the quiet sanctuary he so desperately wanted to still his racing mind, Dean gave into the pain, and found himself pulled back from death's door once more.


	8. Chapter 8

_thank you all once again for the great reviews, they mean the world to me. this chapter is a bit on the shorter side, but chalk full of angst. enjoy :) i'm going on vacation so the next update may not be till next week. sorry :(_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 8

John let out a long breath when he heard the heart monitor beep again, falling to the bed, energy spend as Dean's eyes began to flutter but remained closed. He thought his own heart had stopped when he watched his eldest son's eyes roll back in his head, when the alarms around his bed began to blare, signally that his child was no longer alive. He had never felt so helpless, so out of control. It wasn't that he hadn't come close to losing his children before, no that had happened on far too many occasions. What scared him this time, and what, in all honesty, had been worrying him for years was the lengths Dean would go to for Sam.

When they were small children John had found it to be helpful, even welcome. But, as his boys grew, so did Dean's self destructive need to keep Sam safe, and now John feared that it had grown to a point where it would kill him. And hell, it almost did. John knew that Dean had pulled his own soul from his body to go looking for his brother, because it was something John had been worried about ever since they learned it was possible. As soon as Sam had done it, John knew that there would come a time when Dean would try. And of course, that time came when the kid had just gotten out of a half finished surgery.

John just shook his head, sinking down into a chair while the doctors and nurses still buzzed around his eldest son. Sam had done it when Dean was missing, trapped by a family of murders, freezing to death. It had been the most terrifying three minutes of John's life, his eldest son missing, and his youngest laying dead in his arms, his soul missing, body going cold. But, if that three minutes was utter hell, then the statement Sam made mere moments after shattered his heart forever.

_"No, now. That's an order. I can't lose you both."_

_"If we don't get Dean back then you will. I can't let him die, dad. I won't. You have to understand; it's both of us or neither."_

And it was the soul shattering truth that John had been afraid of for so long. It was both or neither, and he knew it, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself otherwise. He would never have just one son, never have Sam without Dean or Dean without Sam. The boys lived for each other, and John was sure that they would both willingly die for each other. Hell, they'd both already done it.

John's eyes slid over to Sam, the young man leaning against the wall, eyes never leaving his brother. His skin looked pale and clammy, hair and clothes drenched. John sighed, his heart heavy at the sight. He had no idea that the storms were being caused by his youngest, had no idea the true strength of the young man's powers. But then, why should he, it wasn't like he was around enough to know what was normal from what wasn't.

The honest truth of that matter was that, even if they didn't have the Asura's bond between them, Dean still would have known it was Sam the instant the storms started. Because Dean knew his brother, raised his brother, and it was something John had regretted all his life. He should have been there for him, should have laughed with Sam, learned with Sam. But instead, Dean had, and John couldn't help but feel like he missed out on something special.

"Mr. Miller." The doctor's voice broke John from his silent torment, the senior Winchester raising tired eyes to him. "We've got your son stable, we'd like to run some tests, but, given the current circumstances, I don't feel that it would be wise to bring him back to surgery."

"But." John began, his mind in a fog, life falling down around him. "But what about his leg?"

"We'll keep it bandaged and start him on antibiotics just to be safe, but I don't want to put him under again. We still don't know why his heart stopped."

John wanted to scream that he knew, wanted to tell the doctor that it had been his son's doing, and not that of the anesthesiologist. He wanted to tell the man to finish the surgery, to get his son clear of any dangers he may be facing, and then he wanted to take Dean by the shoulders and shake him for being this reckless. After all, he had just come out of a major surgery, and Sam was merely caught in a storm.

"When will you be able to finish it up?"

"I'll know more after I run some tests, Mr. Miller." Dr. Marks began grimly, obviously thinking there was more to Dean's current condition than the young man's attempt at astral-projections. John shook his head, of course the doctor thought it was something different, it wasn't like astral-projection was covered on the med school exams.

"How's he now, Doc." Sam spoke up, though his voice was nothing more than a shaky whisper, his dark eyes now turned to the floor.

"He's resting. I've given him something for the pain and I'm going to have him closely monitored. I'm sorry, but at the moment that's all I can do."

"Thanks, Doc." John began, rising to shake the doctor's hand.

As soon as Dr. Marks and his staff left the small and battered family in peace the entire room descended into an impenetrable silence. Neither Sam nor John knew what to say, and their usual ice breaker was laying unmoving in the bed before them. He had come in to get his knee fixed, to start his young life over again, get a second chance. But it seemed like nothing in the world would ever come easy to him, and that was something Dean didn't deserve at all. Not like any of them deserved what they got, it was just that Dean seemed to always take the brunt of it.

It had been like that ever since he was young, even before the fire. It just always seemed like fate had it out for the boy, and being a hunter only made him more of a target. And the Asura had known that all along, even when John hadn't. After the incident on Shadow Pine Highway the eldest Winchester had done as much research as he could on Asuras. And what he found terrified him. They fed off of raw human emotions, off pain, off misery, off fear. And it had been sensing Dean ever since the fire. Which meant that, even as a four year old, Dean had been suffering in the silence of his own tattered soul.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

John looked up at his youngest, Sam's voice so full of pain that John nearly fell to his knees. He was losing them both, and he was at a loss at how to stop it. He had thought that their only problem was Dean's knee, but now, well now he knew he was wrong. His sons were broken, and John didn't know if he had the strength to fix them. That was always what Dean did, always his job, but now he was the one in need, and John just didn't know what to do.

"This isn't your fault, Sammy."

"Yeah, it is. If I could just control myself then none of this would have happened."

"The powers that Asura left you with are new, I don't expect you to be able to control them."

"Dean can."

"What?"

"Dean can control my powers and his. You've seen him, he just smashed up mirrors. Me, I try and obliterate innocent people."

"This was a one time thing, Sam."

"No, it wasn't. I almost blew away an entire street because some jerk almost ran him over."

"What?"

"I saw the car heading at him and, bam, I was out of it again. The next thing I knew Dean was standing in front of me and the whole street looked like a tornado had just come through."

"When things like this happen you two have to call me."

"Why? I mean, what are you going to be able to do about it." Sam asked, imploring eyes staring down his father. It wasn't a challenge, wasn't the opening lines of a fight. No, this time it was an honest question, a child pleading with his father for help, for guidance. But John just didn't know what to do.

He never realized how much he relied on Dean, never realized how much he placed on the young man's shoulders until it was time to relieve him from those burdens. And John just didn't know how his son managed, because the sheer weight of it was crushing him.

"Sam, I promise I'll find some way to fix this. But we just have to take it one step at a time, and right now, Dean needs us."

Right now? John thought, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. Dean had needed them long before this, and vengeance had blinded both he and Sam. But not anymore, Dean was fading away, broken and breaking, and this time, John swore that his eldest son would not be overlooked.


	9. Chapter 9

_hello all. sorry for the wait, i've been on vacation. thank you all once again for the great reviews, i hope you all enjoy the next chapter. :)_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 9

Sam's heart was racing, his head swimming as he sat in the silence of his brother's hospital room. The tests had all come back negative, but the youngest Winchester had known they would. Dean's episode had nothing to do with medication or surgical complications, it was one hundred percent supernatural. And that fact was more terrifying than any condition the doctor could have announced. Because illness could be cured, but this, this was beyond them all. Sam didn't even know that Dean could astral-project like him. He had been so sure that it was a result of his psychic abilities, so sure that is was something the Asura had merely amplified, that the moment his big brother appeared before him, Sam was truly afraid.

Sam had always found solace in that fact that it was he, and not his brother, that had the psychic abilities. Dean was impulsive, Dean was reckless, and above all, he was self sacrificing, and Sam was afraid of just what his big brother would do if he only had the ability. And now he did. And Sam was more than worried that next time, Dean wouldn't be so lucky. After all, he didn't think anything of pulling his soul from his body, thinking that it was as simple as hopping back in when he felt like it. But Sam knew differently, knew the dangers, and knew that in his current state, Dean would not survive long as a bodiless spirit.

Sam was brought out of his thoughts by Dean, the older man's eyes fluttering weakly, his body fighting its way back into the land of the living. It had been two days since the incident, and Sam had been on pins and needles the entire time. But, despite a fierce wind and threatening skies, Sam managed to keep his powers under control. His father's temper, well that was a different story.

John had gone from concerned and worried to down right irate as the hours had passed. Sam knew it was fear driving him, the lack of control nearly killing his father, but the senior Winchester's mood wasn't helping matters in the least. He had practically ripped the doctor's head off when he was told that Dean's knee could not yet be repaired. He could see the anger boiling in his father's eyes as Dr. Marks repeated, once again, that they wanted to check all Dean's tests and wait for him to wake up before they proceeded, to keep him from having another episode. But, both Sam and John knew that Dean was in more danger waiting than he would be in surgery.

And that was something else that worried Sam. Dean had done this to himself, and his life was now in the balance, a pile of bandages and gauze shielding his body from a potentially life threatening infection. Plus, everyday Dean laid, still and silent in the bed, was another step back on his road to recovery. Dean had done it for him, had put himself in danger to keep his little brother safe, and while John knew that when it first happened, the older hunter didn't do well when his emotions were left to fester and grow. And Sam was afraid what his father would say to Dean when he finally did awaken. But, thankfully, he wouldn't have to find out right away, since John had gone back to the motel for some much needed rest.

"Dean? Hey, can you hear me?" Sam spoke softly, his hand resting on his brother's arm. But Dean just mumbled, his head thrashing from side to side, almost as though he were trying to fight something off.

"Dean, come on, man, calm down." Sam began, his voice stern. He pressed down on both Dean's arms, his brother's heart monitor beeping faster and faster as he fought his way back to consciousness. And slowly Dean began to still under his brother's hands, following his voice back to the room.

"Sammy?" Dean breathed so softly that Sam wouldn't have been able to hear it had be not been leaning in so close.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm here."

"You, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. How're you doing?"

"Tired. Hurts."

"What hurts?" Sam asked, his voice shaking as the stress began to build in his heart.

"Hurts, Sammy."

"I know, Dean, what hurts?"

"Me."

"You gotta be a little less vague, man."

"Leg, head, back. Hurts, Sammy."

"Alright, I'm gonna call the doctor."

"'Kay. Where's dad?"

"He went back to the motel, he'll be back."

"Promise?"

"What?"

"Promise?"

"Yeah, Dean. I promise. He's not leaving."

"'Kay." Dean mumbled, his eyes fluttering once more.

"No, no, you gotta stay awake."

"Why?"

"You're legs not done yet, but the doctor won't take you back to surgery till he talks to you."

"Tired."

"Please, just a little bit longer, Dean."

"Sucks."

"Yeah, I know it sucks."

"Should've just let it have me."

"You don't mean that." Sam felt as though his heart had stopped, his big brother, his Dean, was laying there, broken on the bed, telling him that he was going to give up, to let go. And that was something Sam knew he could never accept. Dean was his brother, he was indestructible, unbreakable; he wasn't supposed to just drift away into the darkness.

"Is he awake?" The doctor's voice sounded like a cannon behind Sam, his soul aching, mind spinning out of control.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, he just woke up."

"Dean?" Dr. Marks began, moving towards the bed as Sam held back.

The young hunter watched as the doctor began his ministrations, but he didn't hear a word, the doctor's voice nothing but a low murmur echoing against the walls of the room. Sam's mind was a million miles away, lost to the cold room around him, his brother's final statement smashing through his heart and soul like a wrecking ball.

Dean wanted to let go, but Sam could, wouldn't, never in all his life allow it. Dean was staying with him, fighting with him whether he liked it or not. And Sam would accept nothing less. After all, it's exactly what Dean would do for him.

"Mr. Miller? Mr. Miller? Sam?" The doctor's voice broke through the haze that had descended around Sam, the young man blinking several times in the light, as though he had just been awoken from a deep sleep.

"Huh, yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. How's my brother?"

"Well, there's nothing in his tests to suggest why he suffered a heart attack. Is there anything in his past we should know about?"

"No." Sam began, his mind wandering back through the twisted years of his life, through the innumerable close calls his brother had suffered. "Nothing."

"Uh um."

"You can patch him up now, right? You know, now that there's nothing wrong with him."

"I didn't say there was nothing wrong with him. His heart stopped, Sam. That sort of thing doesn't happen for no reason. And we have no way of knowing if it will happen again or not."

"How much of the surgery do you have left?"

"Just stitching him up."

"Then can you just do localized anesthesia, not put him all the way under?"

"Sam."

"Please. Please, I just need him better, I just need him up and around again." Sam knew he was pleading, knew he was begging, but at that moment he didn't care. He needed Dean to get better, needed him to get away from the darkness that had descended around his broken soul. And Sam knew that, the longer his brother laid injured in the bed, the further away he would slip.

"I'd like to speak with your father first, Sam. Do you know where he's gone?"

"He's at home. I can call him. It will only take him a few minutes to get back."

"You do that, and let me know when he gets here. Sam, I know that it may not seem it, but I really do have Dean's best interests in mind."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll page you as soon as my dad gets here." And with that, the doctor left, leaving Sam and his brother alone once again.

He took a deep calming breath, glancing at his now sleeping brother before pulling his cell from his pocket. He had been completely honest when he asked his father what he could do to help, what he could do to make this all go away, to fix their problems. He wished, more than anything that John could just swoop in and save the day, but he knew that that was a childish dream, that his father was nothing more than human. And now, with the phone held tightly in his hand, his brother laying helplessly before him, Sam was afraid to call the same man he had relied on for more years then he cared to count.

After a few tense moments of indecision, though, he dialed his father's number, not knowing if the man on the other end would be upset with him or not.

"Sam?" His father's voice crackled through the speaker, his voice anxious, even over the line. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Dean woke up for a little, the doctor came to talk with him."

"And?"

"And, he wants you to come and talk to him."

"Is he taking Dean back to surgery first?"

"No."

"Sam. Stop beating around the bush, this is your brother's life we're talking about."

"You think I don't know that. You think I don't care about that--."

"Sam--."

"You know what." Sam began, the wind pushing hard against the window, the glass rattling with the force. "Don't come, don't talk to him."

"Sam, I'm warning you--."

"Oh, you're warning me. That's a new one."

"Sam, what's wrong with your brother? Why won't they do the surgery?"

"They don't want him to have a heart attack again."

"But, he won't."

"I know, but how exactly do you expect me to explain Dean's 'problem' to the doctor?"

"Do not take that tone with me. What about local anesthesia?"

"I asked, Dr. Marks said he wanted to talk to you first."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him when you get here."

"Sam--."

"What?"

"Look, I've got this lead--."

"Don't you pull that crap now. Don't you dare."

"This is important, Sam."

"Important! Important! Dean's laying in a hospital bed, his leg is still opened up."

"I'm trying to help him. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then why don't you enlighten me."

"This doesn't concern you."

"Really? Dean's life doesn't concern me?"

"Listen, Sam, I'll be there when I can." And with that, the line went dead.

Sam cursed, nearly throwing the phone when his father hung up. He took several long, slow breaths before turning around, his heart nearly stopping when his brown eyes fell on his brother's green ones.

"How much did you hear?" Sam asked, his voice small.

"Enough." Dean mumbled turning away from Sam.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Dad said he was coming."

"Yeah, sure."

"Look, I'm gonna talk with the doctor again, see if he'll patch you up without talking to dad first."

"Fine." Dean breathed, his eyes sliding closed once more.

Sam didn't know what to do, his heart and mind at odds with each other. His mind knew he had to stay here, had to keep his brother safe, even if it was only from himself. But his heart wanted to go find their dad, wanted to hunt down something, anything that may pose a risk to his brother. The Asura that had done this to Dean was gone, but that didn't reassure Sam at all. After all, if that creature had been able to find him, who knew what else was out there, searching for their souls at this very moment.


	10. Chapter 10

_hello again everyone. sorry this took a little longer, i have been busier than i thought. hope you all enjoy it, the plot is starting to thicken. _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 10

John sat on the bed, his head cradled in his hands, breathing slow and even. He felt like he was drowning, the air around him chocking him, killing him. Everything he did was for his boys, everything. But, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he learned or what he saw, he could never find a way to help them. He just seemed to make their lives worse with ever decision that he made. He was trying to find a way to help Dean, trying to find some supernatural force he hadn't yet heard of, some resource that hadn't yet been used. But he had even managed to screw that up. Dean was in worse shape than ever, and he knew he needed to be with him.

But he just didn't know if he could. John was so used to being in control, so used to fixing ever situation; that seeing his eldest son, laying weak on a hospital bed, was almost too much for him to bear. It was a scene he had witnessed far too often, a place he had been more than any father should ever have to be. Dean's young body was littered with scars, each one driving another nail into the senior Winchester's coffin. Those marks may not have been caused by his hands, but they were most certainly a result of his actions. He had placed Dean in harm's way, taught him to sacrifice, to stand between the darkness and his family. And now Dean was paying the price for his father's arrogance and vengeance.

He had thought the surgery was the answer, thought that Dean would hop up out of the bed, healed and whole as though the past year hadn't happened. It was a foolish dream, John knew that, but he still couldn't stop it from laying claim to his heart. He needed Dean to be ok; needed his strong, unwavering son to be the boy he had been, to be Dean again. John had been so intent on saving Sammy, so single-minded in his quest against the Yellow Eyed Demon, that he had let Dean fall by the wayside, and now he was praying to any god that was listening to help him fix that terrible mistake.

The problem was, that he was afraid Dean was already beyond his reach. It was a thought that had sprouted up in his mind when his eldest son's heart had stopped, a seed of doubt worming it way through all his prayers, all his hopes. He needed Dean to be ok, needed him back. John had apologized back in Ely, and he had told himself that that simple, ten minute apology was enough to undo over two decades of damage. But it had been a lie, and John knew that. He had lost his chance with Dean long before the Asura; hell, he'd lost it long before the confrontation with the Yellow Eyed Demon.

He cursed again, pounding the worn bedspread beneath him. He had been given so many second chances, so many opportunities to fix his broken boys, and he had ignored every one of them. No wonder Dean and Sam were so close, they were truly all each other had. John the father died along with his wife, leaving nothing but a hollow shell of the man he had once been. And still his boys loved him, still they followed him into the darkness. And this was how they were to be repaid?

Dean's medical records could probably wrap around the impala, twice, and Sam had been forced to lose his love and future at the age of twenty two. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair, and Sam and Dean should never have had to pay the price for his countless mistakes. Yet they did. So instead of trying to mend the broken highway that was their relationship, John just continued on his path of mistakes and missed opportunities. And he couldn't shake the feeling that soon, there would be no second chance.

A knock at the door drug John out of his thoughts, his heart still aching as he pushed off the bed. He was torn, he needed to save Dean, but he needed to follow this lead to do it. He knew Sam would object, but Dean would understand.

_Would he?_ John berated himself. _Or would he agree just to follow an order?_

"Why is it you never call me till your head's too far up your ass to see straight, Winchester?" Bobby's voice cut through the heavy air the instant John opened the door, the other hunter's anger evident in his dark eyes.

John knew Bobby cared for his boys just as much as he did, hell Bobby had been around them most of their lives. He also knew that the older hunter didn't think much of his parenting skills. There had been a lot of bickering between the two weathered hunters over the years, but John had always been grateful to have Bobby around, shot gun and all.

"This is all just getting out of control, Bobby." John sighed, closing the door behind his old friend.

"I figured as much, since neither you or your boys ever call anybody before shit hits the fan."

John just smiled despite himself, thankful that Bobby was there. The weight of it all had been crushing the eldest Winchester's shoulders, drowning him in a darkness he couldn't find the strength to fight. Having Bobby there lessened the burden a little, bringing John far enough out of his whirlpool of emotions to try and form a plan. And for that, John Winchester was grateful.

"So spill it, Johnny." Bobby began, pulling up a chair, his keen eyes never once leaving John.

"Where should I start?"

"Beginning's always good."

"Well, a little over eight months ago, the boys went missing. They were supposed to be driving to meet me at a job and went through an area of Washington called Shadow Pine. There was an Asura there, Bobby."

"And the boys just stumbled into it?"

"They were lured there."

"By who?" Bobby asked, his eyes narrowing, anger already boiling at the thought of someone they trusted using the boys.

"Joshua."

"Joshua! Wait, you've heard from him? John, people have been asking around."

"He's dead, Bobby. And I'm not sorry about it. He tried to kill my boys, hell, he almost slit Dean's throat with his own hands. He deserved what he got."

"I don't believe it. I mean, this is Joshua. He'd been around the boys nearly as much as me."

"That's why I didn't call sooner. It's nothing against you, Bobby, it's just. I trusted him."

"Was he possessed or something?"

"No. He said we were a danger to the hunting community, can you believe that." John's smirk died when Bobby looked away at the comment. "What?"

"I won't lie to you, Johnny. You are a liability."

"So what, you agree with him? You're gonna sacrifice my children to keep yourself safe!"

"Don't ever accuse me of that, Winchester. I would never do anything to hurt those boys. But Joshua isn't the only one that thinks that way."

"That's not right."

"I'm not saying it is. That's just the way things are. Hunters only see in black and white, and most do what they do to protect their own. If they see someone as a threat, they're gonna take him out."

"But selling them to the things where're supposed to hunt?"

"He was always a bit of a coward, John. Always seemed to stay around those that were bigger and faster. I'm not saying everyone you know's gonna turn on you. I'm just saying, that it's becoming and issue."

"What am I supposed to do. I'm losing them, Bobby, I can feel it."

"What happened to them, John?"

"The Asura. It went after Dean. He was in a bad way, Bobby. The thing damn near killed him."

"How'd Joshua die?"

"He tried to kill Dean. The Asura wanted Dean's soul; it told me that if Dean died in that forest, he'd be trapped forever. But there was a loophole."

"Blessed blade."

"Yeah, Joshua almost slit Dean's throat. It drove the Asura crazy, and it attacked them both. If it hadn't been for Sam…. Dean would have been dead, right then and there."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to this story."

"We blessed the land, we thought we destroyed it."

"You can't destroy and Asura, John."

"Yeah, we figured that out. It was possessing Sam."

"For how long?"

"Five months."

"Five months! And he doesn't have any lasting side effects?"

"I didn't say that. Hell, Bobby, I don't know what's happening to them anymore."

"Them?"

"The Asura was still after Dean. I don't really know the whole story, but at some point, Sam tapped into the Asura's powers to try and reach out to Dean. He was still doing it when he blessed his own blood."

"So the part of the Asura that's left?"

"Is in the form of a bond between Sam and Dean, and it's strong. I thought it was just Sam's psychic powers being amplified, but Dean can do it, too."

"Do what?"

"Changes in the weather, TK, hell they can both astral-project. Though they nearly kill themselves when they do it."

"What? And you've got no clue how that happened?" Bobby asked in astonishment. He knew John had a tendency to be blind around his children, but this was a whole new level.

"They hid from me, Bobby. Dean took Sam and they hid from me. Where the hell did I screw up?" John sighed, resting his head in his hands once more.

How can a father screw up so badly that his own children would run from him, hide from him, especially with what they were going through? It was something John just couldn't believe, a reality he had never expected. Dean's injuries were growing worse by the day, and whatever was left of the Asura was eating away at their already battered souls. But instead of reaching out for help, instead of finding a way to fix it, the boys buried it all.

"I'm sure they weren't hiding--."

"They were. You should have seen Dean when I found them."

"What happened?"

"He had a panic attack. I was just trying to get answers. Damn it, Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm gonna lose them."

"You are with that attitude. So what's going on now, why's Dean at the hospital?"

"The Asura separated him and Sam back in the forest, knocked Dean off a cliff. He shattered his knee and it just never healed right."

"And the surgery isn't working?"

"It got interrupted."

"By what?"

"Sam."

"Sam? Why the hell would he do that?"

"It wasn't on purpose. When he gets stressed, the power he has, it's terrifying. When I found them they were on a hunt. There was this family that was sacrificing people to ward off a curse, and they got Dean. I thought he was dead, bullet nicked his head. But when Sam saw it, damn Bobby, this power came out of him. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before."

"And he still has it?"

"Yeah, we can't get ride of it, and he can't really control it. The only person that can calm him down is Dean. That's why I need to find an answer. I've got this lead I need to look into, and I want you to go to the hospital--."

"I'm not going to that hospital, Johnny."

"What? Why not?"

"Because they're not my kids. I'll look into this 'lead' of yours, you go and be with your kids."

"This is important, Bobby."

"Damn straight it is, that's why your ass is going to the hospital. And there ain't no buts in this conversation."

"You don't know what to look for."

"I think I've been hunting long enough to figure it out. Look, John, I know the Winchester answer for everything is 'hunt it', but some things aren't supernatural. Now." Bobby began, holding up a hand to silence John's argument. "I'm not saying that something can't help him, and I'm gonna look into it, I promise. But what you want is a miracle, and that's something you can't hunt down. Just give the surgery a chance, it's worked for loads of other people."

"I just don't know what to do, Bobby."

"Go to the hospital and see your boys. By the way, John, where'd you hear this lead anyway?"

"One of Caleb's old contacts, Marshal Williamson."


	11. Chapter 11

_hi again. thank you all so much for the great reviews, they really make me smile. hope you all enjoy the newest chapter. :)_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 11

Sam sat in the empty room, his mind racing, heart beating so hard is was almost deafening. He had managed to talk the doctor into completing the surgery, telling them his father was on his way. He didn't care if it was a lie, his anger at the doctor's hesitation out weighing all of Sam's senses. He understood where the man was coming from, he really did, but he also didn't care. Dean's heart wasn't going to stop again, and, if it did, Sam was gonna find is astral-projecting brother and kick his ass. This whole thing had grown out of control, and Sam knew they all needed it to stop.

He needed to learn how to control himself, and he needed to help his brother get better. Dean had been falling apart for far too long, his soul already in tatters long before the Asura, and Sam was going to fix him, whether their father decided to help or not. Anger flashed through Sam at the thought of his father, the bathroom mirror cracking with the force of his rage. He thought the older man had finally come to his senses, that he had finally realized just how close they both were to losing Dean. But, he'd been wrong.

His father was chasing down a lead, running from his problems, burying his fear in the hunt, just like he had always done. He'd been running ever since the fire, facing everything except his family; saving others from the darkness, but losing his children to it at the same time. It was a pointless quest, and Sam knew that now. No matter what they fought, no matter how many demons they killed, there would always be more.

Sam had wanted to kill the Demon, had wanted to avenge Jessica's death and move on. But he realized now that that would never be possible. There was no moving on for the Winchesters, of that the young man was certain, and it ate away at his heart everyday. There was more than just the Yellowed Eyed Demon after them, more than just a dead Asura. Hell, even some of their fellow hunters had turned on them.

It was like being trapped in quicksand, Sam sinking further and further every time he tried to pull himself free. Everything was falling apart, and still their father hunted. Still John Winchester turned his back on his children and marched into the darkness. Because, Sam knew, sometimes facing the unknown was easier than facing family.

The door opened slowly, pulling Sam back to the present, back to the white and sterile room he had been trapped in for days.

"Dad?" He asked, surprised to see John come through the door instead if the doctor.

"Sammy. Where's Dean?"

"They're finishing his knee."

"I thought you said they wanted me here first?"

"Yeah, they did. I told them you were on the way. I thought I was lying to them." Sam added bitterly. Yes, he wanted his father there, but he also wanted him far, far away. They didn't need him anymore, and what he was doing now was just too little, too late.

"Sam."

"What made you change your mind?"

"Bobby showed up."

"Oh, so Bobby you'll listen to, but your own son asks for help and you blow him off."

"I didn't not come here to argue with you, Sam."

"Then why did you come?"

"Because Dean needs me."

"Dean needed you before, and you said you were gonna hunt. So what, you got Bobby to follow up the lead for you?"

John's silence was enough to confirm Sam's suspicions, his anger rising as the moments passed. It wasn't his father's choice to come to the hospital it was Bobby's, and Sam knew that. His father was stubborn, and sometimes he needed someone to smack him and point him in the right directions. Sam knew all this, knew his dad wanted to be at the hospital, that he wanted to be there for Dean. But Sam was angry, and that was standing in the way of all his rational thinking.

He could help Dean by himself. Hell, he had been for the past year. He didn't need or want his father around, not after everything that he and Dean had been through.

"I screwed up, Sam, and I'm sorry for that."

"A little late, don't you think."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing."

"I'm not just gonna sit back and do nothing while my kids suffer."

"Really? So, you're not gonna ignore us when we call for help? You're not gonna have someone tail us because you've got better things to do? You're not gonna go off on a hunt hours after Dean's heart stops?"

"Sam, that hunt is important. I'm trying to help, Dean."

"You're trying to make yourself feel better."

"Alright then, Sam, what the hell do you want me to do? Do you want me to snap my fingers and erase the last twenty some years of our lives?"

"I don't want you to come in here and think that hanging around for a few days and barking orders is gonna help any. It's not enough, Dad."

"Then what would be enough?"

"I don't know." Sam conceded, his anger giving away to exhaustion, he really didn't want to fight with his father now. "Look, Dad, do you really want to help me?"

"Sam--."

"Could you just go pick up something to eat that isn't hospital food?" Sam asked, turning his tired eyes towards his father.

Sam just needed a little time to himself, that's all. He needed to collect himself, be there for Dean when he got back, and he knew he wouldn't be able to do that if he was fighting with his father.

"Alright, Sam." John sighed, disappearing back into the halls of the hospital.

Sam knew that Dean would want to see their father, knew that his brother needed the older man to be there, to be with him. But Sam just couldn't have that right now. He and Dean had too much to work through, too much to figure out, and having their father breathing down their necks wasn't going to help any of them.

To John's credit he didn't return for several hours, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts. The youngest Winchester needed the time, need the solitude, the silence. His mind was working over time, trying to process everything that was happening around them, trying to make sense of their crumbling lives. So much had happened to them, and it had changed them in ways he could never have imagined. The Asura, Dean's knee, and now the link between them. It was all so much to take in, so much to understand, and Sam could feel himself drowning in it.

"Sam?" Dr. Marks's voice broke Sam out of his inner turmoil, the young hunter looking towards the door. "I'd just like you know that the surgery went fine. Dean's in recovery now, and we'll have him down here within the hour."

"Thanks, Doc."

"No problem. Have you heard from your father?"

"Yeah, he's a little tied up now, but he'll be here when he can."

"Alright. Just let me know when he gets here. I'd like to talk with him."

"Sure thing. And, Doc, thanks for everything."

"It's not a problem, Sam. Once Dean is awake and coherent I'm going to want to talk with the two of you about his continuing treatments." Dr. Marks smiled and nodded, closing the door behind him and sending Sam into his thoughts once more. Everything when alright; Sam sighed at the thought, one of the many weights slowly lifting from his shoulders. Maybe now, they could move on.

_Move on? Move on to what?_ Sam thought bitterly. Move on to hunting, move on to suffering? What was there to move on to? He would be with his brother, Dean whole and happy, but what else laid in his future? There was so much uncertainty, so much darkness, and Sam didn't even know which way to turn. He had relied on his brother so much for direction, for sanctuary, but now he had to step into that role. Dean was falling and fading, and Sam would be damned if he let his brother disappear forever.

It was another forty five minutes before Dean was brought back, groggy and slow, but awake. They had given him a localized anesthesia because of his previous episode, and while it didn't put him completely under, it didn't leave him wide awake either.

"How're you feeling?" Sam asked the moment the orderlies left.

"Doped up." Dean smiled, his glassy eyes not really focusing on anything.

"Dude, how much did they give you?"

"Way too much. They could have chopped my leg off. Don't think I would've cared."

"Did he say when you could start therapy."

"Whoa there, sparky. Let's just wait till I can move the thing again. 'Sides, I don't need therapy here."

"Dean, you're leg won't get better without it."

"I know, but I can figure it out on my own."

"I guess Dad could make a routine up."

"Yeah, sure." Dean snorted, his eyes blinking owlishly. "He gonna dictated it over the phone."

Sam felt his heart break at his brother's tone, Dean knowing full well that, a few hours before, his father had decided to hunt down a lead rather than be with is ailing child.

"He was here, Dean, he just went to grab some food."

"Got someone to hunt down his lead for him, then?"

"Bobby." Sam conceded, knowing that lying to his brother wasn't going to get him anywhere. After all, Dean knew John better than anyone.

"Thought so."

Sam spent the rest of the night sitting silently by his brother's bed, Dean drifting in and out of consciousness as the hours crept on. He was so lost in though, so lost in the pain that he failed to notice his father, standing just beyond the door, watching his boys from the shadows of the hall.


	12. Chapter 12

_hello everyone. thank you all once again for the great reviews. this chapter is a little shorter, but full of mystery, i hope everyone enjoys it. :)_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 12

Dean sat up on the bed, his arms resting on his waist, eyes staring unblinking at the wall. They'd finished the surgery the previous night, 'cured' him, or so they said. But he didn't feel any different, his scars running far deeper than a shattered knee. He knew his father and brother had pinned all their hopes on the surgery, had decided that it would be a quick, one hundred percent fix; no matter what the doctors said. But Dean knew different, knew that his life would always be hampered by the injury, but he just didn't know how to tell his family.

He had listened to everything the doctor said, storing it all in his brain, just so he knew what he was really up against. Contrary to popular belief, Dean never went into anything blind. He always knew the enemy, even when it was a medical condition. He knew the risks, especially with the delay in finishing the surgery, and he expected them. His father and brother, well that was another story entirely.

The doctor had been back in several times, trying to get through to John and Sam, to open their eyes to the reality of the situation. But John was adamant; he wanted his son home, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. So Dean was forced to sit and wait while his father filled out the AMA paperwork. Like everything else in his life, Dean wasn't allowed rest, wasn't allowed time to put himself back together properly. What he was now was a patchwork mess at best, but there was really nothing he could do about it. He would follow his dad's therapy routine, listen to Sam's words of encouragement, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up.

"You ready?" Sam asked, coming back into the room, the doctor at his heels.

"Yup."

"Alright now, Dean." The Doctor began, obviously not liking the fact that his patient was leaving early.

Dean knew that the hospital's main concern was his 'heart attack' but he also knew there was nothing they could do about it. He'd been reckless, but Sam had needed him, and that trumped all. Besides, how was he supposed to know that it would be so hard to get back in.

"I want you to work your knee, but I also want you to take it easy. No kneeling, no squatting, no sitting cross-legged. Don't twist your knee in anyway, and don't put your leg in a position that would require your knee to be over exerted."

"I got it." Dean mumbled automatically. He'd heard the doctor's monologue several times and he was sure that he could recite it back word for word if asked.

"Humor me. I want you to use the leg, but don't over use it. I've given your father a list of exercises I want you to do everyday. And, Dean, it's important that you keep up with your therapy or the surgery would have been nothing but a big waste of time. The recovery process is long and slow, I'm not gonna lie to you, but I believe that you're young enough to bounce back from this."

"Thanks, Doc."

"You're welcome." Dr. Marks turned to the door when John appeared, the older man wheeling a wheelchair in front of him, his sharp eyes set on the exit. "Take care of yourself, Dean. And if you have any problems or begin to experience growing pains, call me at once.

"Now." He began, turning towards John and Sam. "You're gonna need to keep an eye on him, his leg was open to the elements for a long time. Any signs of illness, and you need to bring him right back to the ER. His body is still recovering from major surgery and an infection could be devastating."

"I know how to take care of my kids." John answered sharply, obviously growing tired of the doctor's constant reminders.

Dean just sat in the bed, still staring at the wall in front of him. He just wanted this to all be over, just wanted to hunt again, to be himself again. He hated what the Asura had done to him, hated the fact that there were hunters out there trying to use them as bait, to hide behind him and his family. He just wanted life to be like it was before Shadow Pine Highway, but he knew that would never be possible.

A stupid cassette tape, that's what he had nearly given his life for; walked into the hands of an Asura for. He had let anger cloud his judgement, and it had nearly killed him. He didn't know what would have happened had he remained in the car, but he was pretty damn sure he would have avoided the falling over the cliffs nicely. But that was all in the past, and short of inventing a time machine, there was nothing he could do about it.

"Ready, Dean?" John asked, pushing the chair up to his bed.

"Can I use my crutches instead?"

"Sorry, buddy, hospital policy."

"I won't tell if you won't."

"Get in the chair, Dean."

"Yes, sir."

Dean climbed off the bed, being careful not to jostle his knee too much. They had put his knee in a large brace, the contraption barely fitting beneath his loose jeans. It was just another sign of his injury and he hated it. His old brace, while limiting, had been small, barely noticeable beneath his clothing. But this one, well now there was no denying that fact that there was something wrong with him; not that his crutches weren't a dead give away, anyway.

The small family made their way out of the hospital, the hunters bruised and beaten, but still not defeated. They would face this just like they faced everything else, with single minded determination. They would fight this and win, because failure was never an option for a Winchester.

None of them notice the man watching them as they stepped beyond the doors of the hospital, his hazel eyes taking in each of of them in turn, studying them, hunting them.

6666666666666

Bobby pulled his truck to a stop, killing the engine as he scanned the old building before him. Something wasn't right, he could feel it in his bones. This wasn't the kind of place a healer would be, no matter how seedy they were. The place looked like it hadn't been occupied for the better part of two decades, many of the structure's windows blown out or broken. It was a decoy, of that he was certain. Someone had wanted to get John away from the boys.

It was obvious the moment he pulled up the dilapidated old factory. The lead had been a trick, much like Shadow Pine Highway, and it had been a trick to separate the small family again. Bobby cursed, circling the building several times, making sure that there wasn't anyone or any thing there. Someone was after the Winchesters again, and Bobby wasn't about to just sit back and let it happen. Those boys had been through too much, suffered too much at the hand of others. They deserved better.

They were two of the best people he knew, and they were a good fifteen years younger then a lot of the hunters he would consider 'decent'. No, Sam and Dean were in a league all their own, and that made them targets in a war they were drafted into when they were too young to know better. John did his best, deep down Bobby knew that, but he had put a bounty on his sons' heads. And the seasoned hunter was afraid that, one of these days, the boys might fall beyond his reach.

He climbed back into the truck, cursing again when he flipped open his cellphone. No signal. Of course, this was the Winchesters he was talking about, when was anything ever going to be easy? He slammed the useless phone down on the dash, racing down the road he had come down. He was a good ten hours from the hospital, and lord only knew where John was gonna move his kids after he got Dean discharged. He needed to find them first, needed to get to them before whatever was going to happen, happened. Because, for the first time ever, he wasn't sure if the Winchesters would be able to handle it.

66666666666

The figure stood, shrouded in the darkness of the old warehouse, watching the tail lights as they vanished into the night. So many had been after them, had tried and failed to take them. But the family was at its breaking point, of that everyone was certain, and it was only a matter of time before they were there for the taking. The Iblis licked it's lips, tasting the fear, tasting the power, feeding off of what lay just beyond it's reach.

It had convinced the hunter to help, lured him with whispers. Humans were always so easily guided; the game was just nowhere near as fun as it used to be. But, with the brothers, it could wage war, break and bend their spirits, mold them to it's will with just whispers. Yes, it could have them, even if the two older hunters stood in the way. After all, all mortals can be lead by even the quietest of voices.


	13. Chapter 13

_super sorry for the long wait, this is my busy season at work. thank you all once again for the great reviews, they really make my day. hope everyone enjoys the next chapter. _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 13

Sam watched his brother intently as the older man laid on the bed. It was almost as though he was afraid Dean would disappear if he looked away, like he would vanish into dust in the time it took to blink. They had been through so much, suffered through so much, and Sam was afraid that his small and battered family wouldn't be able to take anymore. Everything was against them; time, the elements, the hunting community, hell, even his own powers. It was like trying to swim out of a whirlpool; he was exhausted, and in the end, he was still in the same spot.

Their lives were more screwed up than ever. He and his father were on even worse terms now then they were before Stanford, and Dean was still injured, despite the surgery. Yes, his leg laid flat and straight now, and yes, Sam knew that his brother would be able to walk with far less pain then he had been. But he was afraid that, in the end, they would end up paying too high a price for his mobility. Dean was still facing the very real possibility of infection, and Sam could tell that his father's closed off demeanor wasn't helping matters at all.

Dean searched hard for his father's approval, spending his days trying to live up to the inhuman expectations the older man had placed on his son's shoulders. It was almost like he was searching for a little piece of the man he had remembered from childhood, the man he had known before the fire. But Sam knew that that John Winchester was gone, burned along with his mother. He knew, because it was the same way with him. He was different after losing Jessica, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise. He was angrier, more vengeful, and more game for a hunt, and he knew it was a result of losing the love of his life.

Sam was more like his father then either men would ever admit, of that he was certain, and he knew it long before Dean had stated it on a muddy road nearly a lifetime before. They were two men caught in a power struggle, caught in their own versions of what was right and what wasn't, and Dean was left somewhere in the middle. Always in the middle. It was his alloted role, his 'place to be', and Sam was determined to change that. After all, his brother deserved a life just as much as everyone else.

"You hungry?" Sam asked, breaking the heavy silence of the room; the tv turned down to barely a murmur.

"Just get me a burger or something." Dean mumbled, his eyes never leaving the the television.

"Why don't you just come with me?"

"Do you really need me to hold your hand while you buy cheeseburgers?"

"Dean, you can't just sit here and watch tv all day."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Great argument."

"Come on."

"Just leave me alone, Sammy."

"Dean, the doctor said you need to get up and around."

"I don't really care what the doctor said."

"Fine, then we can sit here and talk, order some take out."

"You suck." Dean glared at his brother, his face a mixture of annoyance and gratitude.

Sam knew his brother, well he knew his brother as well as anyone could know Dean, and he knew what it took to get him motivated. If he didn't have something to hunt or hustle, then his big brother would just sit around, letting himself fade away into the background, and that was something Sam wasn't about to allow. No, his brother had drifted too far into the background already.

Sam tossed Dean his jacket before grabbing his own, his brother sliding back onto his crutches as natural as he would his own two legs. Sam sighed, wishing he was free of them. He knew the doctor had told them at least six weeks before Dean's knee was strong enough to walk without them, but it still hurt the young hunter to see it.

"We going?"

Sam looked up, taking in his brother. Dean's leg was straighter then it had been in months, his right foot grazing the ground. He was better then he was before the surgery, that much was obvious, but there was still so much more he had to go through, and that tore at the younger man's heart.

"Yeah, there's a place just a few blocks down, I think we should walk."

"Why?"

"Because, it's good for you."

"Sam."

"Come on, Dean."

"You're like the nurse from hell."

"You're welcome."

Sam cast a glance at the bar on the corner as he and his brother left the motel room. Their father had gone to hustle some money, and Sam knew, to drown his sorrows in shot glasses. It was the way he dealt with things, the way he turned off his mind, and it was something Sam had learned to live with over the years. He knew it was the older man's way, the last little bit of comfort he had in his tormented life. It wasn't right by any means, but it was the way things were; and the youngest Winchester had finally learned to stop fighting it.

Sam turned back towards his brother when he felt a crutch smack him on the back of his head. Dean was smirking at him, his face a bit paler then normal, his eyes sunken. Even though Dean looked worse for wear, it was the first time Sam had seen his brother smile in a long time, and it was a welcome sight. They had had so little to be happy about as of late. Even the surgery had turned into a heartbreaking disaster, leaving his brother not only emotionally wrecked, but at the hands of a whole host of complications. It was all just another example of how screwed up, and truly out of control, their lives were.

"You just gonna stare off into the sunset, or are you gonna eat?" Dean chided, pulling his jacket a little closer, even though the air wasn't all that cold.

Sam studied Dean for another moment, taking in the older man's appearance. He looked a little under the weather, but really, that should be expected.

'_He's just been through major surgery.'_ A voice whispered to Sam, so faint, the hunter wasn't even sure he had heard it. '_Of course he's gonna look a little worse for wear.'_

"Did you hear something?" Sam asked, catching up to his brother.

"No. Why?"

"Nothing." Sam mumbled, shaking his head. It must have been his imagination.

666666666

The boys bickered and laughed as they made their way towards the diner, both happier then they had been in quite some time. Neither one noticed the shadow that formed just beyond the motel, twisting and bending its way through the air. The demon's deep, indigo eyes never left the boys, its senses yearning, tongue tasting the air, tasting their souls.

So many had tried and failed to take them, countless beings destroyed on the quest for the Winchesters. Others had tried separating them, over powering them, even tricking them; but they had all failed. The Iblis knew better, knew the family's weakness, each other. It didn't need them separated, no, it needed them together, needed them to worry about one another. They were hunters after all, and hunters listened to the words whispered in their minds, the voices carried to them on still winds. Their wills were easily bent, hearts easily broken, and the Iblis knew exactly how to end the Winchesters.

6666666666

Bobby banged on the motel room door, his mind running through the information yet again. Something was up, he could feel it in his bones, and he knew that the Winchesters were at the center of it. Because, hell, they were always at the center of it. It was were the family was born, and where they lived their lives; in the middle, always in the middle. No matter what was going on, past or present, Bobby was sure that if he looked hard enough, he would find the Winchesters' fingerprints all over it. As sure as the sun would rise, the Winchesters would always be at the very heart of trouble.

The hunter cursed beneath his breath, turning away from the door. His cell phone still wasn't working, something that only fed his bad feeling, and now no one was answering the motel room door. He scanned the area around him searching the landscape for any sign of the family, anything he may have missed. It only took him one sweep of the area to find his next target, the weathered man striding across the street towards the bar.

He knew he'd find at least one of the Winchesters in there, hustling or just drinking away their many sorrows. He knew they had pinned a lot on the surgery, that much was obvious from the tone of John's voice when he called. They had been expecting a quick fix, well, Sam and John had been expecting a quick fix. Bobby knew all three men better then most, and he knew how each of them reacted in a crisis. John hunted things down to the ends of the earth and further, his mind set and narrowed on the task. Sam researched it, learned about it, came at the problem from every angle he could, analyzing ever aspect of it. And Dean, well, Dean did a little bit of both.

He learned what he was hunting, came at it with both knowledge and experience, and fought it with everything he had. But, he knew when to stop, and that was something that set him apart from his father and brother. Dean knew when to pull back, knew when to look at the world around him. It wasn't that he left jobs finished, normally the opposite. The difference between them was that Dean didn't let things consume him; well, things other then his family, that is. When it came to his father and brother Dean was single minded and self-destructive, but when it came to the hunt, Dean was the most professional and capable hunter Bobby had ever seen.

_'But is he still sharp enough to fight the war?'_ A voice whispered in Bobby's mind, his thoughts drifting back to Dean's injury at the sound of the words. Would Dean still be capable of hunting the way he had? Bobby hadn't actually seen him since all this began, and based on what John said, it was bad.

_'There has to be another way, something different. There's a war coming, battles lines are being drawn. What if he can't fight? Things are after him, John said so." _

The voice continued on as Bobby made his way to the bar. He had to find John, had to tell them what he'd learned. The warehouse was a false lead, and he knew that something was after the small family. And he had to find another way to help them.


	14. Chapter 14

_hey all, sorry for the long wait, real life has been killing me. thank you all again for the great reviews, they mean the world to me. i hope this chapter doesnt disapoint. _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 14

The bar was heavy with smoke and music, the murmured voices of the patrons numbing John along with the whiskey. He had managed a good four hundred dollars, his angry pool partners leaving shortly after, and now he was drowning his sorrows in the amber liquid he had come to rely on. But, over the years, he learned that not every fear could be silenced. His sons were hurt, broken, and losing their way, and he wasn't sure he was still strong enough to guide them. The years had taken a toll on him, the life of a hunter eating away at his soul, pulling him further and further into darkness with each passing month.

_'They're fading away.'_ A voice whispered at the back of John's mind, his body tensing with the statement. He knew it was true. His boys were disappearing right before his eyes.

_'They're going to fall in this war. You must find a different way to save them.'_

A different way to save them, yes, that's what he needed. The conventional was no longer enough, of that the senior Winchester was certain. He had to find a different way, something he'd missed, and he needed to find it fast.

"John."

John spun on the spot at the sound of his name, the alcohol not dulling his instincts in the least. He was trained, and he would be damned if he ever let that training slip. "Bobby." He relaxed slightly at the sight of the other hunter, but he tensed again when he saw the look in his eyes.

"Where're the boys?" Bobby asked, getting right to the point as he scanned the dark bar.

"They're at the motel." John answered, his heart beating fast, the voice floating back to him from somewhere deep in his mind.

_'They're fading away.'_

"Just checked, no one's there. Except the car, that is."

"The Impala's still there?" John knew that there could have been any number of logical reasons for the boys leaving the car, but at the moment, not a single one was registering in his mind. All he could hear was that little whisper in the back of his mind; telling him something was wrong, that he was losing his boys.

John pushed away from the bar, sobriety returning to him instantly as he followed Bobby out the door. The crisp night air bit at his face, waking him from the stupor he had been trying to lose himself in. He knew they wouldn't go anywhere without the car, hell Dean had practically glued himself to it. He took a few steadying breaths as he scanned the street before him, pushing the nagging voice from the back of his mind. The boys were fine, they were probably just out eating. He silently berated himself, angry that he had let his fears take hold, that he had let the voice at the back of his mind rule him, lead him. He was stronger then that, better then the fear.

He searched his pocket, hitting in Sam's number once he found his cell phone. The voice was still there, tapping at the back of his mind, whispering to him, though it was now too quiet to make out its words.

"Hello." Sam's voice broke through the static of the phone, John's body relaxing at the sound. He knew the boys were alright, but having them out of his sight still made him tense and edgy. They were adults, in his heart John knew that, but they were still his children, and the darkness was always there, no matter how old the boys were.

"Sammy. Where are you?"

"At the diner. Why?"

"Head back to the motel."

"Sure. What's wrong?"

"Just head back, Sam."

"Alright, you want anything."

"A couple burgers." John knew the conversation was over, knew there was nothing else to really say, but he still couldn't hang up the phone. There was something gnawing away at him, something settling deep down in his bone. "How's Dean?"

"He's fine. Do you want to talk to him?"

"No. Just, ASAP, Sam." And with that, John ended the call.

"They alright?" Bobby asked, slipping into the room behind John.

"Yeah, they're fine. So, what happened, I thought I sent you after a lead?"

"That's what I came to talk to you about. That lead was a bust."

"What?"

"It was a trap, John. There was no one there, and it didn't look like there had been for a long time. Someone wanted you away from the boys."

"Damn it." John cursed, throwing his jacket on the bed. In that instant John wanted nothing more than to be with his sons, to have both Sam and Dean safe in the motel room with him. "What the hell's going on, Bobby?"

"I don't know, John. But I promise you, I won't let anything happen to the boys."

"Thanks." John looked up at his old friend, gratitude clear on his worn face. They had so little in life, just each other. Too many had been lost to this fight, swallowed up by darkness, and John was glad that he still had a few people around he could call friends.

"Now, tell me about this source of yours."

"Marshal Williamson. Ever heard of him?" John asked, his mind switching back into hunter mode. He couldn't let himself be sidetracked, couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgement. He had a job to do, a hunt to chase down, before his boys became the hunted instead.

_'They're already hunted.'_ The little voice spoke up again, echoing through his mind with renewed force. And it was right; the boys were already being hunted. But there had to be some way, something he had missed before. There had to be a way to save them.

"Can't say that I have." Bobby began, his voice suspicious as he sank down onto the edge of one of the beds. "How'd you get in touch with him?"

"Through some other contacts. I had a couple leads going on how to help Dean before the surgery became an option."

"Yeah well, whoever he is, he's not on the up and up if you ask me."

"So, there wasn't anything there? No sulfur, no sigils?"

"Nothing. Didn't look like anything, supernatural or human, had been there in a long time."

"Why, Bobby? Why now? I mean, Dean's already in the hospital, Sam's a walking psychic mess. Why try to take them out now? I mean, what kind of a threat are they?"

"It's not what they're like now, John. There're Sam and Dean, your boys, and as much as you hate to admit it, they're front and center among hunters."

"When did everything go so wrong?" John asked, his voice low and quiet, head resting in his hands. He was tired, his nerves frayed, adrenaline leaving his now aching body. His life was ruled by fear, by uncertainty, and he could fell it starting to take its toll.

"John, that's something people have been asking themselves for ages."

Both hunters turned at the sound of a key in the lock, their bodies tensing, though they knew it was just the boys. John stood and strode to the door, pulling it open before Sam even had a chance to take the key back out of the lock.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, immediately on guard, his eyes locking with his father's.

John didn't say anything, just took the bags from him and ushered them into the room, checking the parking lot before closing and bolting the door. Only when they were all inside did he speak.

"You boys alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Sam huffed, obviously annoyed with the idea that his father didn't even trust him to buy a cheeseburger. "But, you know, if you want to walk me there next time."

"Is it possible for you to not fight, or is it hard wired into you?" John asked, his already frayed nerves growing shorter.

"I must have slept through the 'I must obey' lecture when I was little."

"This isn't a joke, Sam."

"We were getting burgers."

"Yeah, what weapons are you carrying? Did you stake out the route first?"

"Oh yeah, we scoured the streets in our tank."

"You know what's out there, Sam. And you can't just up and take Dean out of this room."

"Why not?"

"Because he can't protect himself, can't fight. It's a liability to let him leave."

Both men turned when they heard a door slam, their fight nearly forgotten as they scanned the room around them. Bobby was sitting on the edge of Dean's bed, his eyes boring into the two warring Winchesters. "Well that was productive."

"Where's Dean." Sam and John asked in unison, both men backing away from each other as their anger began to dissipate. John didn't know what it was, but Sam had a way of pushing his buttons that no one else in the world possessed.

"Bathroom." Bobby answered dryly, his eyes never leaving John and Sam. "Think the shouting match kind of ruined his appetite. You storming in there's not gonna help matters any, Johnny." Bobby added as John moved towards the door.

"Way to go." Sam mumbled, turning away from his father.

"What'd you say?"

"Like he's not feeling crappy enough already, you have to go announce it to the whole room."

"I'm stating the obvious, Sam."

"We were getting lunch, what the hell could have happened. I mean, you'd think we were being followed or something…" Sam stilled, his sentence dying on his lips at the look in his father's eyes. "Dad, what's going on?"

"That lead, it turned out to be a hoax."

"A hoax?"

"Yup." Bobby cut in, moving from his spot on the bed. "Nothing there, no sign there ever was. I think someone wanted John away from here."

"But why?" Sam asked, sinking down into the chair, looking as though he'd just been punched in the gut.

John felt all his anger drain away when he looked into his youngest son's eyes, the dark brown orbs full of more pain then he could ever imagine. They had been through so much, suffered so much at the hands of others, and now it was happening all over again. It wasn't right, wasn't fair. He children shouldn't have to be afraid all the time, shouldn't have to constantly look over their shoulders every time they took a breath. Sam was right, they'd just gone for burgers, it shouldn't have been such a big deal.

"I don't know, son. You said the Asura, that it wanted to try and trade your souls?"

"Yeah." Sam began, his voice quiet, eyes drifting to the closed bathroom door. "Yeah, that was the original plan. It wanted to keep us, trade our souls with other demons. I don't know exactly."

"So, other demons, they'd probably know what happened."

"John." Bobby began, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, his gaze falling on Sam. "Maybe this isn't the best time."

"It's the only time, Bobby."

"Dad, that could be hundreds." Sam spoke, though his voice was barely more then a whisper. "I mean, between the Asura and Joshua."

"It'll be fine, Sam. We know something's up now, we just gotta stay on guard. Did you see anything out of the ordinary when you were outside?"

"No." Sam began a few moments later. "Nothing."

"Alright." John began, rubbing his face. "We'll move out in an hour, I wanna be gone from here."

"But what about Dean? He needs to be up and about, he can't be cooped in the car for hours."

"Look, Sam, that's something we're gonna have to worry about later. We've got bigger problems right now. Something's after you boys, and I want to put as much distance between you and it as I can."

John turned away from Sam and Bobby, rifling through the bag of food. He was balancing a tight rope, perched on the edge of a knife, and he could feel himself sway. One wrong move, no matter how small, and all would be lost. He had never felt so on edge, so lost. Sam and Dean were his world, his reason, his life, and he didn't know what would happen to him if he lost them.

_'Another way. The answer's right in front of you. You need to find another way, some one stronger then the rest. You have to find another way to save them.'_ And John knew his inner voice was right. The answer was close, he could feel it, sense it, but just had to find out what it was, had to figure out another way to save Dean.


	15. Chapter 15

_Once again, sorry about the long wait :(. thank you all once again for the great, great reviews, they mean the world to me. i hope everyone enjoys the next chapter. :)_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 15

Dean sat slumped in the booth, his entire body aching after the short walk. He knew he'd just been through major surgery, knew he had a long recovery ahead of him, but this just felt different, wrong somehow. He was hot and freezing at the same time, his skin crawling. And, to top it all off, his knee felt like it was on fire. Every time he moved he felt the stitches tighten and pull, his skin burning at the slightest touch. If it weren't for the large knee brace, Dean knew that the pain would have been absolutely unbearable. But he wasn't about to complain.

No, Dean kept his mouth shut, nodded to his father and brother when they turned worried eyes to him. They had done this for him, gone through hoops to get the surgery done, and he wasn't about to bring down their spirits. It was the first time they had been happy in a long time, the first time his little brother's eyes hadn't had the weight of the world dulling them. It was the first time in a long time that they were back to Winchester normal, and Dean didn't want to blow it. He'd caused too many problems in their lives, and he didn't want to be responsible for breaking their hearts again.

"You alright, man?" Sam asked, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look too good."

"I said I was fine."

"Alright. So, what are you in the mood for?" Sam asked, flipping the pages of the menu.

"Just a burger. Like I said back at the room."

"Fine."

"Hey, you're the one that wanted to come here, you have no right to sulk."

"I just thought it would be good to get out of the room."

"Yeah, and the walk?"

"The doctor said you needed to use your leg."

"Doctors say lots of things."

"Yeah, and maybe you should listen sometime."

"Why start now?"

"Because, it could be helpful."

"Could, being the main word."

"Whatever, man." Sam smirked, shaking his head.

Dean knew what his little brother needed, knew what his family needed. They needed comfort, needed a constant, needed to know that everything would be alright. But what were they supposed to do if their constant was broken? Dean had been there for his family, always sacrificing for them, pushing himself for them. But he was afraid that he didn't have the strength to hold them up any longer. They needed to lean against him, needed him for support, but how could he hold up his family if he couldn't even keep himself standing?

Dean was broken from his thoughts by the sound of Sam's phone, his younger brother arching his eyebrows as he read the screen. "It's Dad."

"I wonder what he wants."

"Who knows. Hello?…..At the diner. Why?……….Sure, what's wrong." Sam asked, shaking his head as Dean motioned the 'what the hell' sign. "Alright, you want anything?"

Dean stilled instantly when Sam's head shot up, his eyes boring into his brother, the gaze making Dean feel uncomfortable. It was obvious that the conversation had shifted to him.

"He's fine. Do you want to talk to him?"

But before Sam had a chance to answer, before Dean even began to reach out for the phone, the call was ended. Dean dropped his arm back to the table, the appendage feeling heavier then he thought it should. He had been certain that his father would want to talk to him, sure that the older man had some orders, something he needed to pass on. But he'd been wrong. He'd given the orders to Sam, and he'd bypassed Dean all together.

"What's up?" Dean asked as Sam signaled to the waitress.

"Nothing. Dad just wants us back, and he told us to bring food."

"That's it?" Dean asked, knowing they were keeping something from him.

"Uh, yup, that was the basic gist of it." Sam stated off-hand, turning a moment later to give the young girl his order.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Dean. I'm sure. He just wants us to head back."

"Alright. Did he say anything about Bobby?"

"No, but he asked for a couple burgers, so I think he might be there."

"Yeah. Alright." Dean mumbled, slumping down into the booth.

He didn't like being kept in the dark, didn't like being the one on the losing end of the 'need to know' crap. But that was exactly where he had been since shattering his knee. Even Sam had been keeping secrets from him, trying to shelter him, to protect him. And worse still, was that his father didn't think he could handle the hunt any longer. It was all Dean had, all he was, and everything was trying to steal it away from him. Demons, his family, hell even fate kept trying to kick him while he was down and Dean just didn't know how many more times he could pick himself up.

The brothers remained silent as they waited for their food, both men too absorbed in their own thoughts to speak. The world was crashing down around them, Dean could feel it, and he didn't know what to do. His instincts told him to hunt it, but he didn't know what 'it' was, and he wasn't even sure it was hunt-able. This wasn't a demon, wasn't a spirit, it was a broken knee and a shattered family, and that was beyond Dean's knowledge to fix. He and Sam were different now, the Asura had made sure of that, and the middle Winchester knew that life would never be the same again.

The food arrived a few minutes later, the brothers heading out soon afterwards. Dean was dreading the walk back to the motel, his body already protesting even as he sat in the booth. He had been battling his own body as he sat, forcing himself to focus on something other then the pain, but now it was all attacking him ten-fold. He could feel every pebble, feel ever gust of wind, every inch of fabric as his jeans slid over the wound. He could feel everything, each sensation like knives ripping into him.

"You alright, man?" Sam asked, turning worried eyes to his brother.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean bit out as evenly as he could, slowing his breathing, forcing his heart to stop racing. In all seriousness, he just wanted to lay down and let the darkness take him, let his battered body rest. But Sam and John had put too much hope on this surgery, had too much riding on the outcome, and Dean just couldn't ruin it for them.

"Ok. Just let me know if you need to stop."

"Nah, man, I'm good. Let's just get back to the room, because I'm starving."

The pair walked in silence, Dean too focused on the pain to speak, and Sam to focused on whatever it was that he focused on to notice. But Dean was grateful for small favors, because, if Sam asked him again how he felt, he wasn't at all certain that he could lie. At that moment, chopping off his leg sounded like the best thing in the world to him, and he knew that that wasn't a good sign. He was fading fast, and he could feel it, but he was just too tired to think about it.

After what felt like an eternity they finally reached the motel. Dean knew the diner was just down the street, no more then a few short blocks away, but it could have been miles away for all he cared.

"You sure you're alright, Dean?" Sam asked again, pulling the motel room key from his pocket.

"Yeah, yeah, just move it along." Dean groaned, shooting his little brother the best scowl he could muster.

Sam just shook his head, smiling slightly as he turned the nob. The younger man was just about to push the door open when the knob was ripped out of his hand, the door swinging inward violently. To say that Dean was surprised to see his father in the doorway would have been an understatement. John was usually more stoic, his fears kept locked behind an iron facade. So, to see him rip open the door like that was a little unnerving to say the least. But, worse then that was the fact that Dean was now certain that he was being left out of the loop.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked before Dean had a chance to. But their father said nothing, just grabbed the bags and ushered them into the room.

"You boys alright?" John asked, bolting the door. But Dean was just too tired to answer.

"Yeah, we're fine." Sam answered, his voice curt.

Dean flopped back against the bed, his entire body aching, every nerve on fire. He could hear the sarcasm in his brother's voice, knew the younger man was upset about the treatment. It was inevitable, as sure as the tides; if John and Sam were together, then they were going to fight. Dean opened his mouth to stop them, once again placing himself in the middle, but Sam spoke first.

"But, you know, if you want to walk me there next time."

Dean just closed his eyes against the voices, too tired to intervene. He knew he should have stopped them before whatever they were fighting about got out of hand, but at that moment, he couldn't even muster up the strength to open his eyes. The world was just too heavy, too noisy, too much trouble; and he was so very tired. He just wanted to rest, to forget about the world around him and just fall away. Unfortunately, the world around him seemed to have other ideas.

He pushed his eyes open at the sound of his name, every fiber of his being begging his father to stop speaking. He knew what was coming, knew what it was all going to boil down to, and he just couldn't handle that.

"Because he can't protect himself, can't fight. It's a liability to let him leave."

And there it was; the truth. John wasn't possessed, wasn't putting up a front to con an enemy. No, he was speaking the honest truth, and it ripped Dean apart. He was supposed to look after Sammy, supposed to keep his family safe. But he couldn't do that anymore, and now he was nothing more then a liability. No more brother, no more son, no more hunter, just a liability.

Dean made his way to the small bathroom as fast as he could, his mind oblivious to any other words that were spoken between his father and Sam. He was worthless, broken and used, and nothing would change that. His usefulness was gone, so what was he supposed to do now? He pressed his back against the door before sliding slowly to the ground. Funny, the room hadn't been spinning when he first went in. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing his body to stop shaking.

He was better then this, he could be stronger then this. He was a soldier, a Winchester, he wasn't about to let a few aches and pains slow him down.

_'You're fine, over reacting.'_ A voice spoke to him from the back of his mind. _'The don't need someone that's weak. Don't need a liability.'_

Dean knew the voice was right, could tell it was the truth as it echoed to him from the back of his mind. His family didn't need someone weak holding them back. They needed him to be strong, needed him to be the way he was before shattering his knee. He just needed to keep pushing himself, needed to ignore the pain. It was all in his head anyway. He needed to be strong, needed to be there for his father and Sammy because, if he wasn't a hunter, then he was nothing; and he just couldn't be left behind.

6666666666666666

The Iblis stood outside the small motel room, the fears and thoughts of its occupants floating around it, feeding it, enticing it. It had placed the seeds of doubt, sewn its crop of deceit, and now it was time to reap the benefits.


	16. Chapter 16

_here we go, another chapter. dont worry, i do have an ending in sight, even though this story has taken on a life of it's own. there's still a little bit to go, though, so hang in there. thank you all again for the great reviews, i am so glad everyone is still enjoying it. on with the show. :)_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 16

Marshal Williamson sat in the dark motel room, his mind racing. He knew what he was doing was wrong, knew he was supposed to protect others like him, but well, those 'others' were causing a lot of problems. Hell, they were the last to see Joshua alive, and he knew that that was more than just a coincidence. Trouble followed the Winchesters, and it needed to be stopped. It wasn't that it was their faults, no, it was just the roll of the dice. But that same roll of the dice had effected more than just the small Winchester family and that, well that made it Marshal's concern.

Joshua had been a friend of his, a good man, and while there was no proof that the Winchesters had been the cause of his disappearance, deep in his heart, he knew it to be true. Because, it had happened before, and the hunter knew that it would happen again. Jim Murphy, Caleb, Joshua, and countless others, all lost because of John Winchester, because of his boys. Darkness followed them, hounded them, chased them, and they always seemed to dodge it, placing another hunter in its path as they slipped away. They had to be stopped.

"You've started already?" Marshal asked the air around him, the darkness hanging on him like a cloak, wrapping around him like the arms of a truck stop darling.

"Yes." The darkness answered, the hunter not even flinching when a man materialized in front of him. "Does that bother you?"

"Dean's still hurt."

"That's why I've started. This needs to be done, Marshal. They need to be taken care of."

Marshal could feel the demon's words mixing with his own thought, a distant whisper coming to his ears, almost as though it was spoken from somewhere deep inside him. _You know it's right, know it must be done. The Winchesters will be the ruin of us all if left alone. _

"Too many good men have already been lost, Marshal."

"Why not just take Sam, why go after his brother?"

"You know as well as I that they won't let Sam go willingly. We need him." The Iblis spoke sharply, imploringly, almost as though Sam were a prize that they had to win. "That kind of power, that kind of soul. So much could be done with him. He's the greatest weapon either side can have, and he's just sitting there, lost in the shadow of his brother. The only way he'll come, the only way he'll accept what has to be, is if Dean is at risk."

"Don't underestimate the rest of them."

"Oh, I don't plan to. That mistake has already been made by too many others. But, you see, I know how that family works, know how they care for one another. It's not a matter of stealing their souls, it's a matter of taking everything. Their fears, their loves, their faults, and their strengths. I need more than just Sam Winchester's powers, I need him."

"We're playing with fire." Marshal began, pushing himself to his feet. They were balancing a tight rope, perched precariously on the edge of a knife, and he knew that one slip, and all would be lost. But he wasn't trying to hurt them, wasn't trying to kill them, he just needed Sam to understand, needed John to see what the boy could really do, and how much that strength was needed.

He just wished that Dean wasn't the one trapped in the middle. He'd met him before a few years back, and while he was a little annoying at times, he was a good kid. Hell, he was a great kid, and a frighteningly good hunter. But he was also in the middle of everything, and, when sacrifices needed to be made, Dean always seemed to be the first one in line.

66666666666

John rubbed at his tired eyes, picking at the last few french fries on his plate. Why couldn't anything in their lives ever be easy? Your son's hurt, you fix it and move on, but not if you're a Winchester. If it was just him he wouldn't have cared, hell, he would have begged fate to come and finish him off. But this was about his boys, Mary's boys, and that put things in a whole new perspective. Demons and psychos wanted to seek vengeance on him, fine, but no one came near his children.

"Find anything yet?" Bobby asked, pulling John back into the moment.

They had decided to get two separate rooms, one for the boys and one for he and Bobby. He didn't want to let them out of his sight, but he also knew that staying in the same room with them was going to cause more harm than good. He had been angry when he said it, had let his comments slip by, but there was no changing what had happened.

He meant what he had said, Dean was now a liability. Something was after both the boys, and Dean was already seriously injured, still recuperating from major surgery. It was an observation, it was the truth— so why did he feel like kicking himself in the ass?

"Nothing." John mumbled, throwing one book aside and reaching for another. They had no clue what they were looking for, no idea what could be after Dean and Sam. It was like trying to find a single treasure in every ocean on earth, and John was getting more than a little frustrated. If something wanted to take his kids, then it should stand up to him and try and get them like a man.

_You're running out of time._ It was true, he could feel every moment as it slipped away, every second racing past him, drowning him. It was only a matter of time before something struck, before something tried to make it through their defenses. But Dean would be better soon, he was getting stronger. John just had to hold the darkness at bay for a little while, just until Dean was better, until he could fight.

_Do you really believe that?_ The voice chided again, breaking John down from the inside out.

In all honesty, he didn't believe it. Dean was beyond his reach, had slipped past him when he wasn't looking, and John just didn't know what to do. He needed to save Dean, needed to bring him back from whatever edge he was standing on, but every time he was near him, he just seemed to make things worse. He had to find a different way, a new way to save them, to save Dean.

Sam, well Sam was a different story. He was stronger than John had ever thought possible, the powers he had taken from the Asura making the young man down right terrifying. Hell, he had called up a hurricane just because his brother was in surgery. It was an awe-inspiring and frightening thing to see, and John had witnessed that power on two occasions now. And both times, Dean's life had been the key. John had seen Sam's power when Dean was in surgery, and he had seen the power when Dean was shot by the Traiter girls, bleeding on the tip of a pentagram, his soul moments away from being forfeit.

The power had been so strong then that John had been unable to get to Dean, unable to pull him away from whatever the girls had set on him. And at the hospital, it had been the same, Sam's power so strong, that it had stopped the surgery and nearly brought the whole building to the ground. When that power took over, Sam was lost and unreachable, except that is, from Dean. Every time it happened, it had been Dean to bring him out of it, Dean to save him. But Dean was sick now, fading away, and John was afraid that if he wasn't there to stop Sam, then no one would be able to.

_Another way._

Yes, another way, there had to be another way, something he was missing. Sam. That other way was Sam. The powers he had, the powers the Asura had given him. Right now they were just a mess of emotions and a loss of control, but if conquered, if used correctly, they could be a weapon. The ideas flowed through John's mind like a tidal wave. Sam could do this, he was strong enough, smart enough, he could stop whatever it was that was after them, could keep Dean safe.

For so long it had been the older boy's job, Dean's job, but now, well now he was no longer capable of it. But Sam was. He could look after Dean, keep him safe, and who knew how many demons and spirits they could take down with Sam's new found ability. Why hadn't he seen it before?

"Maybe some one was just messing with you, Johnny." Bobby spoke again, though John could hear the skepticism in his voice. Something was out there, watching them and waiting, John knew it, and he was sure that Bobby knew it, too.

"So I take it you're not finding anything either."

"Nothing but squat. Maybe we should bring the boys in on this."

"No. Sam knows something's up, but Dean doesn't. And he's got enough to worry about, I don't want to lay anything else on him."

"Speaking of Dean, he doesn't look too good, John."

"He just came out of surgery a few days ago."

"I know, but still."

"I'll keep an eye on him. I swear. Damn it, Bobby, I really thought this surgery would be the answer."

"I'm not saying that it isn't. But things like this need time."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Bobby, I was thinking."

"That's never good." Bobby chuckled, lightening the mood a little.

"Sam's powers, they're strong."

"You mean the Asura's powers that Sam's stuck with."

"Yeah."

"Johnny, if you're going where I think you are, you should just stop now."

"Just, hear me out. You didn't see him, you didn't see what he could do. That kind of power, Bobby, he could stop anything."

"It's a demon's powers, John. And I know that Sam's no demon, but the power still belongs to one, whether it's in your boy or not."

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"I'll tell you what, give it one more day. We'll see if we can figure out something, and if not, we'll look into Sam."

"I wish there was another way, Bobby, I really do. But I just don't see any other way out of it."

6666666666

The Iblis stood outside the motel room, having left Marshal behind. Things were moving much too slowly for his liking. He needed to keep them broken, keep them separated. The demon had thought that the older boy's illness and injury would have been enough to sway the other men, but now he knew that he was wrong. They would need a catalyst, something to force the Winchesters' hand. He needed Sam, needed the power the boy possessed. He couldn't let him fall to another's hands, couldn't let the strength within him be lost. No, he needed it for himself.

The Iblis moved to the other room, watching the brothers as they sat, laughing at some old movie. It needed to break them apart, needed to sever the bond they had. It was the only way to get the hunters to use the younger boy. The creature let its eyes wander towards the older boy, appraising Dean from the shadows. He was sick, that much was obvious, but the others didn't seem to have noticed. It was the leverage the being needed, and he knew it. The brothers were too close to each other, their lives too inter-twined. And the demon knew that the key to getting Sam, the key to winning his powers, was to take away the only thing keeping them under control.


	17. Chapter 17

_thank you all once again for the great reviews, i am so happy everyone is enjoying this story. sorry for the late post, life's been busy. hope everyone enjoys the next chapter._

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 17

Dean laid on the old motel room bed, his breathing even as another wave of dizziness swept over him. He couldn't have felt like more of a failure. Hell, his father had even wanted to stay in a different room. He forced that thought from his mind, choosing instead to listen to his brother's breathing, Sam having drifted off to sleep a few hours before. Dean knew he should have done the same, knew his body needed to rest, but he couldn't silence the din inside his head.

It was all crashing down on top of him. Everything that had happened over the past year, everything their lives had become; it was all there, beating against his brain, stealing away what little energy his tired body still possessed. He couldn't show weakness, though, couldn't let his father think any less of him. He was already put off in a separate room, Sam told to keep an eye on him, to not let him wander off alone. It was like his father had physically hit him, the older man's words cutting through him like knives, eating away at him as he laid in the darkness. All his life, he had searched for his father's approval, strived to be good enough, and now that all seemed to have been in vain.

He was no longer needed by his family, and if he wasn't needed by them, then he wasn't needed by anyone. All his life he had been one thing, a hunter, and for the past year he had been forced to watch as that life slowly slipped away, all because of one stupid mistake. Everything that was happening now was his fault, he knew that, no matter what anyone said to him. He'd been the one to walk out onto a dark street without a light, he'd gone missing in a forest, leaving his brother completely open to the Asura's attack. And then he'd sat by Sam's side for five months, not even realizing the younger man was possessed. And the Tulpa-- God, Dean hoped his father never found out about that stupid Tulpa.

Everything his brother had suffered was because of him, because of his mistakes, because of his lack of judgment, and he knew that nothing he did would be able to fix it. He pushed himself up off the bed as fast as his aching body would allow. He needed air, needed to get away from the darkness around him. The thoughts were running through his mind so fast, that he thought he'd be sick. He just needed to get away from it all, just for a few minutes. He dressed slowly before pulling himself up on his crutches, nearly falling back to the bed as another wave of dizziness swept over him.

He knew he was sick, he could feel it. His entire body hurt, his knee throbbing with a pain he hadn't felt since he shattered it on a dark mountain road. But he couldn't let it keep him down, couldn't give his father another thing to be disappointed about. He needed to make his family think he was alright, to show them he was good enough, strong enough to keep hunting. He couldn't become a liability, couldn't be left behind, no matter what.

He steadied himself, breathing through the pain, focusing on the task at hand. He made his way across the small motel room, the space larger then he had remembered it being; or maybe he was just moving slower. He eyed Sam's sleeping form one more time before pulling open the motel room door, the cold night air biting at his exposed skin. He pulled his hood up over his head, his body shivering as he moved down the walk.

He'd been so cold, his body shivering no matter how high Sam turned the heater. He wasn't going to complain, though, wasn't going to let his brother know how uncomfortable he was, even though he was more than certain that Sam already knew. His brother could read him, better than anyone, and it annoyed Dean to no end. He knew Sam was on to him, or at least knew that something was up, but he had so far kept his mouth shut, and Dean just hoped it would stay that way.

He glanced at his father and Bobby's room as he walked by. The curtains were closed, as always, but the lights were still on; the two older hunters obviously still discussing the mess Dean had managed to get himself into. That's why they had wanted the separate room, Dean knew it. They needed to be able to figure out their next move, and they didn't need him around to screw it up. Dean continued down the cold sidewalk, his night-time brace not offering nearly as much support as he needed. But, at that moment, he didn't care.

He wanted to feel the pain, needed the sensation to keep him moving, keep him fighting. In reality, all he wanted to do was fall over and sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he was met with the same nightmare. He was worried, terrified, that when he woke again, he would be alone. His dad didn't think he could hunt anymore, hell he didn't even think he could get dinner. So, why keep him around? He was just going to get in the way, just going to slow them all down, and that was going to put everyone, including Sam, in danger. Sam was his father's first priority, always, and he wouldn't let Dean compromise his little brother's well being.

From that back of his mind, his fears grew again, the same fears he had had months before. They were going to leave him, take Sammy away from him, and it was something he knew he wouldn't ever be able to handle. That thought had nearly killed him in Minnesota, the reality of it forcing his shared powers with Sam to spike. He couldn't lose his family, couldn't be left behind, because he knew, that he would never be able to survive it.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a sudden flash and pop, the three lights above him blinking out, sending him into instant darkness. "Just great." He mumbled, turning back to the room. Even remembering what had happened back on that stupid hunt had been enough to set him off.

Before Dean had even managed a step he was grabbed from behind, his attacker out sizing him by a good few inches and a lot more weight. He struggled, kicking back with his good leg, but it was no use; he felt the needle pierce his neck before he had the chance to call out to his family mere feet away.

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Sam woke with a jolt, unsure what had roused him. The room was quiet and still, too quiet, as a matter of fact. "Damn it, Dean." Sam mumbled beneath his breath, turning on the light, though he already knew what he would find.

Dean's bed was empty, and his crutches were missing. Sam cursed again, checking the small bathroom, even though he knew his brother wouldn't be there. Dean was a stubborn ass, he always had been, but ever since his injury, and now surgery, he'd been even worse. It was like he didn't think he mattered anymore, like he was trying to go out with style, and Sam was getting tired of it. Dean had just gone through a major operation, with complications, and now he was out wandering on a cold night with nothing but a hoodie and jeans on.

Sam pulled on his jacket and headed out the door, hoping his brother hadn't gotten too far. He sighed, glancing at the impala before moving towards his father's room; at least he couldn't drive, that narrowed down the search. The young hunter thought briefly about checking in with his father and Bobby, knowing the men were still up, but he was more than certain that Dean wouldn't have gone there, and the last thing he needed was for Dean to feel like even more of a failure.

Sam continued on down the sidewalk, his brow furrowing when he noticed a dark spot at the corner of the building. The motel had been very well lit, with bright lights at every corner, illuminating the parking lot. Now, though, the darkness sent shivers up and down Sam's spine. They'd been lit before, he was sure of it. He slowed his steps as he moved towards the spot, his senses on high alert. But a moment later, his heart nearly stopped. Instead of finding a few burned out bulbs, instead of finding his brother lost in thought around the bend, he found nothing but a set of crutches.

Sam's mind was racing as he ran back to his father's room, pounding on the door with far more force than necessary. He thought his father was being paranoid before, thought he was making up a hunt were there wasn't one, distracting himself from Dean's slowly failing condition. But now the reality of the entire situation was beating him over the head. Dean was missing, and once again, he'd slept as his brother disappeared into the darkness.

"Dad, open up." Sam called, still pounding on the door.

"Sammy, what the hell--?" John asked, pulling open the door, his face a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"Dean's missing." Sam responded, pushing past his father.

"What!"

"I woke up and he wasn't there, so I checked around, all I found were these." Sam lifted the crutches, John's eyes opening wide at the sight. "There's nothing else." The young hunter finished, sinking down to the bed as the adrenaline left him.

"Sam?" Bobby began, resting a hand on the young man's shoulder as John ran from the room, determined to find some clue to his son's disappearance, even though Sam knew there was none.

"I should have told him."

"Told him what?"

"That you thought there was someone after us. I didn't tell him, Bobby. I didn't warn him or anything. It's just-- I didn't want to stress him out."

"Sam, this isn't your fault. We'll find him."

"How?" Sam asked, his voice cracking; eyes searched his father as he reentered the room. How were they going to find Dean? Hell, they didn't even know where to look.

"I think we've found another way." Bobby answered slowly.

Sam looked back and forth between the two men, both nodding in agreement before shifting their gazes to him. Whatever this new way was, Sam was certain that it wasn't going to be an easy path. But Dean was in trouble, and the young man knew that nothing would stop him from finding his brother.


	18. Chapter 18

_hello all. once again, sorry for the long wait, i've been very busy and i'm trying to finish up all my stories. thank you all so much for the great reviews, they mean alot to me. as always let me know what you think. there are only one or two chapters left after this one (hopefully). _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 18

Dean blinked awake slowly, his mind a foggy mess of pain and confusion. The last thing he remembered was walking down the sidewalk of the motel-- but he was pretty damn sure that he wasn't there anymore. He held his eyes shut, fighting back the nausea, his headache so severe that he was certain it would send him back into unconsciousness. He tried to raise his arm, his heart beating fast when he realized he couldn't move.

Dean's eyes flew open as he struggled, reality falling down on top of him with each passing second. The room around him was dark, his vision limited to just a few feet in front of him. He was laying on an old cot, his wrists and ankles tied down. He fought off another wave of nausea when he pulled at the bindings, his right knee screaming out in pain at the movement. He laid completely still for several long minutes, willing his body to relax as he forced air through his lungs.

He let his mind wander back through the night, trying to figure out how he had managed to get from his motel to wherever the hell was was now. But everything after the lights exploding was a blank. All he could remember about the night was that his father had insisted on staying in another room, intentionally leaving him out of whatever was going on. Because, at that moment, he was pretty damn certain that something was up.

Dean's head turned at a sudden sound, the room flooding with a dim light as a door on the other side of the space opened. The young hunter blinked several times, his eyes adjusting to the dull light-- and it was then that he finally got a good look around. The room was big, in an old warehouse from the looks of it, and damp. It wasn't nearly as cold as the space the Traters had kept him in, but this one still seemed cool, the saturated air seeping into his skin, numbing him right down to his bones.

He tried to push himself up on his elbows, but his tired and aching body wouldn't comply. He was really, really getting tired of being the damsel in distress; that was supposed to be Sammy's job. Resigned to the fact that, for now, he was trapped on the cot, Dean turned his head toward the door once more, searching the light for his captor.

"Gotta say, Winchester, I'm unimpressed." A voice spoke, echoing to the hunter from somewhere in the shadows.

"Yeah, well, I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here."

"True. Makes sense now, you know."

"What makes sense?" Dean continued, trying the restraints around his wrists again. He knew not to try his legs again, sure that another surge of pain would throw him into unconsciousness.

"Why your dad pushed you off in the corner. I mean, taken while you were walking down a sidewalk-- that's pretty weak."

"As weak as hiding in the shadows talking big." Dean jabbed back, rubbing his wrists raw as he tried to break free of the restrains.

The soft laugh that met his ears told him that his captor could see right through his lie, that he knew the truth. John had pushed Dean out of the loop for just this reason. He was too good for something like this. He should have known the man was there, should have heard him, seen the signs. But he didn't, and it was a mistake not even a novice would make. He was too wrapped up on his own problems, too distracted, and he was now paying the price.

"You can drop the routine, I know you."

"You don't know squat."

"Oh, but I think I do. See." The man began, moving into the light. Dean tried to slide away from him as he moved closer, but the ties around his wrists and ankles held him still. "I know your daddy's a hunter, just like I know your brother's special."

"You don't know anything about my brother." Dean growled back defiantly. He wasn't going to let this guy get into his head. He had to be strong, had to be better. He'd let himself slip over the past several months, he knew that, but he refused to give his father another reason to be disappointed.

"I know he's got part of an Asura in him. I've seen his power, Dean." The man sneered, leaning down against the cot, his face mere inches from Dean's. "And I know that it's only a matter of time before he loses himself to it."

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"How the hell did you lose him, Sam?" John shouted, pacing back and forth across the too small motel room. He couldn't believe they'd lost Dean; that all three of them had just sat there while something took his son. He knew it wasn't Sam's fault, but that didn't stop him from yelling.

"I was sleeping. Hell, he hobbled right past your window and you didn't even hear him. And if you'd just told him about whatever the hell's going on in the first place, he would have been a little more careful."

"He shouldn't have been out alone, threat or no threat."

"He's an adult." Sam shouted, the mirrors around him shattering as his anger spiked.

"He's hurt, Sam. He can't look out for himself and you know that."

"Yo!" Bobby's gruff voice broke through the argument, just as a strong wind began to blow through the room.

John's mind immediately switched gears-- Sam was losing his grip, and Dean wasn't there to pull him back. He knew that Bobby had realized it, too. Even though his friend had yet to witness one of Sam's episodes, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. The last time Sam zoned out, Dean projected his mind to calm his brother down, and nearly died in the process. No, they had to get Sam to control it himself, had to help him get a handle on the powers. Because, once he did, John knew it would be time to use them.

"Sammy, just, breath through it." John began, softening his voice as much as he could. "Just focus on me, focus on the room. Come on, son."

The winds continued to grow as John spoke. He tried to keep his own heart from racing, focusing instead on calming Sam, on learning exactly what it was his youngest son had become. He couldn't let his mind wander, couldn't let himself think about the worst case scenario. He was going to find Dean, and then he was going to figure out a way to help Sam. He couldn't lose either of his boys, he wouldn't. Because, without them, his life had no purpose.

"Sam."

"I'm trying." Sam breathed a few minutes later, sinking down to his knees.

John rushed forward, catching his youngest as he fell, his heartbeat racing when he felt just how cold and clammy he was. This power, whatever it was, was pulling energy from the boy, stealing away what little reserve he had. For an instant, the senior Winchester reconsidered his plan. He was going to be putting Sam at greater risk then he had originally though. But then his youngest son's words came floating back to him.

_'It's both of us or neither.'_

No matter what, it was going to be two sons or none, and at that moment, John was willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to keep both his children. After ten of the longest minutes of his life, John felt Sam begin to still, his breathing evening out as the gale slowly began to subside.

"That's it, Sammy, just breath."

"Dad?" Sam began after another few minutes, pushing away from his father.

John's heart broke when he looked into his son's eyes. Sam's face was a mixture of confusion and fear, his eyes reflecting everything he didn't have the words to say. This was beyond them all, and Sam knew it just as much as John. Their lives had been changed forever by the Asura, and for the first time in almost a year, John had realized that, no matter what, this was something he would never be able to fix. It was the way his boys were, and it was something he was going to have to learn to accept.

"You with me, Sammy?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so." Sam sighed, John helping him up into the nearest seat. "Dad, Bobby said there might be a way to get Dean. What's going on?"

John glared at the other hunter at Sam's words. He knew they didn't have any other options, knew that Bobby was right in telling Sam about the plan, but damn it, that didn't mean he had to like it. What he was going to ask Sam to do was dangerous, hell even deadly, and though he knew Sam would do it without hesitation, he still didn't want to force it on his youngest. But, like so many things in their lives, the Winchesters were left without a choice.

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Dean struggled against the bonds with renewed energy, the darkness of the room wrapping itself around his mind once more. Marshal Williamson was a lying bastard, Dean kept telling himself that, over and over again. But it wasn't helping one bit. John would never put Sam's safety at risk, would never let him be so reckless. Marshal was lying, there was no other way to say it. So, why didn't Dean believe that for a second.

He bit back another wave of pain, warm blood running down his hands as he continued to fight against the thick ropes. They were using him to get Sam, using his father and Bobby to get to Sam, and they were all oblivious. Dean had seen what Sam could do on more occasions then he cared to count, and he knew just how volatile the powers were. John, well he had no clue. He'd seen what, two outbursts, Dean had been there for far more, each time pulling the younger man back from the brink, back from the darkness that stole him each time the powers shined through. Whatever the Asura had done to Sam needed to be controlled, because, if it wasn't, Dean was afraid that he would lose Sam to it forever.

But no, Marshal was lying, there was no other way around it. Dean focused on that thought, refusing to let the reality around him in. He couldn't believe what the man had said, couldn't let himself fall victim to the taunts. He knew Sam could feel him, knew his brother could sense him if he let him, and Dean refused to bring Sam down with him. He was better then that, had been trained to keep his little brother safe, and he would rather die then betray that obligation.

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"Dad, come on, tell me." Sam began, his mind going into free fall when he looked into his father's eyes. His father had always been so closed off, his eyes bottomless, but still hiding away his soul. Now though, all that changed. Sam could see heartache when he looked at his father, could see a man on the brink, and it scared the younger man more then he would ever say.

"Sammy, it's dangerous."

"Don't start that crap with me, tell me what's going on."

"We think we can use your powers to bring Dean back." Bobby broke in, Sam's heart quickening when he saw his father turn away.

"What do you mean, use my powers. The Asura? Like what I did before?"

"More then that, Sam." John spoke up, turning back to the other hunters. "There's something after you boys, you need to stop it."

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The Iblis stood outside the window, soaking up every word, letting the uncertainty fill him, feed him. They had all been so easy to control, so easy to manipulate. It had them all right where it wanted them. Who would have thought that someone so easily over looked, someone so often left behind, would be the key to bringing down some of the best hunters the world had ever seen. Dean. He was always at the center, always in the middle, and that was the greatest advantage the Iblis could ever ask for.

Sam would do anything for his brother, even walk through the gates of hell. And, once he embraced the powers within him, that's exactly what he would be doing. Oh yes, the Iblis could feel him now, taste him, and it knew that Sam Winchester was only moments away from falling into the darkness.


	19. Chapter 19

_alright everyone. the end is near... thank you all for the great, great reviews, and for sticking with this. as always, let me know what you think. :D_

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 19

"What do I need to do?" Sam asked, pacing around the room like a caged animal.

John had to admit, Sam had changed. He could see the power the young man possessed in his eyes, the once soft brown orbs sharper than he had remembered them being. It saddened John to see the change, to come face to face with the fact that his son, his Sammy, was no longer the innocent child he had remembered. He was a man now, a hunter, and until that moment, John had missed the change.

"Sam, I really want you to think about this."

"There's nothing to think about. I'm not leaving Dean behind."

"Alright. The first thing is to get you to control the powers. You need to practice, Sam. I'll set up some drills."

"We don't have time for drills, Dad. I'm not leaving Dean alone for a second more than he has to be. Just, tell me what I need to do."

"I need you to do what the Asura could do. I need you to reach out and find out who or what's doing this."

"And stop them."

"Just work on finding them, first. Can you sense things around you without actually projecting to them?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I mean, the times I project to Dean, I'm actually trying to look at him. I don't know, maybe if I just try to feel him, it won't be so bad."

"I need you to be sure, Sam. I don't want to put you in anymore danger than I have to."

"I'm sure. I can do this."

"Alright. I want you to lay down. And, Sam, if anything seems off, anything at all, I want you to come back right away."

John watched as Sam moved to lay down, his heart pounding in his chest as Bobby laid a protective line of salt around the bed. They had no idea what they were doing, what the consequences of their actions would ultimately be. They were going places he knew they shouldn't be, his boys taking more risks than he had ever imagined. At that moment, John wanted nothing more than to take his children and run, to hide them away from the darkness, keep them hidden from the evil that was so determined to take them away. But, he knew that wasn't possible. His boys were what they were, and nothing on this earth or beyond would change that.

"Ready, Johnny?" Bobby asked, recapping the salt canister and turning to his long time friend.

John wasn't ready, not by a long shot, but he knew he didn't have a choice. "Yeah, let's get this done."

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Dean bit his lip as another wave of pain washed over him. Marshal Williamson had left him alone hours before, obviously believing that Dean wasn't much of a threat. _'Big mistake.' _Dean thought to himself, taking a few calming breaths before sliding his blood soaked hand through the ropes. He laid still for several long moments, pushing past the pain, breathing through the burning that was sneaking up and down his arm. He needed to find some way to get to his father, needed to tell them what was going on, to stop them.

He pushed himself up slowly on his left elbow, using his freed right hand to support himself. He shook, leaning against his elbow for several long minutes, his tired body wanting nothing more than to lay back against the cot. He fought off the fatigue, willing his body to work, the thought of Sam turning into a monster spurring him on. He had saved his little brother from so much over the years, had kept Sam unaware of the darkness as a child, and Dean would be damned if he caused Sam to fall now.

Dean leaned over, biting back a cry as his right knee twisted with the movement of his body. He blinking back the darkness that was threatening his vision, sweat breaking out over his body as he began to shiver in the cool room. After a few minutes and a string of colorful curses, Dean managed to free his other arm. He worked as fast as he could on the bindings on his legs, having to stop several times when nausea threatened to over take him. By the time he'd managed to free himself, he was more than spent.

If the nausea, pain, and chills weren't enough to show Dean that something was seriously wrong with him, then the wetness soaking through his jeans was just another sign for him to ignore. He knew his knee was infected, bad, but he had other things to worry about at that moment. He would sort himself out when there was time, right now Sammy needed him.

Dean moved to stand, falling back to the cot as a wave of both vertigo and pain hit him. He laid as still as he could, fighting to stay awake, unconsciousness calling to him. His mind began to slide into the abyss all around him, his body stilling, no matter how much Dean fought against it. He knew he needed to move, needed to help Sam, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was sleep.

The young hunter could still feel the cot, the chill of the room seeping down into his bones. But in the darkness that had laid claim over him, he could feel something else. There was a presence there, a voice drifting to him, a soul calming him, searching for him.

"No," Dean groaned, trying to push the presence away, to pull himself back from the darkness.

_"Where are you?"_

"No."

_"Dean, where are you?"_

"You have to leave, Sammy. You have to run." And with those last, forced words, Dean fell into the darkness.

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"Damn it," Sam cursed, sitting up on the bed so quick, he caused both Bobby and John to jump.

"Sammy, what is it?" John asked, trying to push Sam back to the bed. But the younger hunter was having none of it.

He knew where his brother was, knew who was holding him, and he knew that Dean was running out of time. He was amazed at what he had been able to do, the power of the Asura sending such a rush through the younger man, that Sam could still feel a tingle in his skin. By focusing on the emotions around Dean instead of Dean himself, Sam had been able to see so much more.

He could see Marshal Williamson, could feel fear and uncertainty rolling off the other hunter, consuming him, and driving Sam. The young Winchester knew it was wrong, knew it was a power he should be fighting, a power that had once belonged to an Asura, but it was helping him, saving Dean, and that trumped everything.

"I know where they are. They're in a warehouse down by the lake."

"They?"

"Marshal Williamson. He has Dean."

"That son of a bitch," John cursed, abandoning his attempts to keep Sam laying down and turning toward the door.

"Wait just a second, you two," Bobby broke in, blocking the pair. "We need to think about this before we go running in half cocked."

"We don't have time to stop and think about this, Bobby. Dean's hurt, I could feel it," Sam ground out, pushing past the older man. But Bobby stood strong against the youngest Winchester.

"All the more reason to have our heads on straight."

"Bobby's right, Sam. We need a game plan."

"Dad, you didn't feel him, he's sick."

"Sam, I'm not gonna argue with you."

"That's right," Sam began, his voice growing cold, eyes narrowing as he looked at the two hunter before him. "You're not." And with a single wave of his hand, both hunters were sent flying back into the wall, where they crumbled unconsciously to the floor.

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Marshal Williamson paced back and forth across the dingy old office of the abandoned warehouse. His mind kept drifting back to Dean, the image of the young man laying helpless before him an image he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't want to hurt him, hell he didn't want to involve him at all, but it was a reality that couldn't be avoided. Sam would come for his brother, and the fact that Dean was noticeably sick would only strengthen the younger man's resolve.

The Iblis had told him of Sam's power, of his link to Dean, and Marshal had no doubt that the demon spoke the truth. He had seen it in them, had heard stories of the Winchester brothers from countless other hunters. They were something different in the world of demon and hunters, but whether their presence was good or bad had yet to be determined. Too many people had been lost because of them, too many good men having vanished after Sam and Dean passed through. It wasn't the brothers' faults, he knew that, but the hunter also knew that there was nothing he could do about it.

He was brought out of his inner musings when he felt a breeze behind him, the wisp of wind echoing to him like a voice, wrapping around him, reaching into him. The Iblis had been out with the Winchesters, out watching over its intended prize, following the small family, placing a seed of doubt in their minds. And once again, Marshal felt dirty, used, wrong.

"This needs to be done." The Iblis spoke, reading the hunter's thoughts.

"I know it does."

"Sam's on his way."

"What about John and Bobby?"

"He's already taken care of them."

"What?" Marshal turned, his body tensing as he stared down the demon behind him. "He's turned already?"

"He's starting, but he hasn't given in fully yet. He's still fighting it."

"Dean."

"He's coming for his brother. You need to keep them apart, to force Sam to embrace what he is."

"I will." Marshal spoke sternly, moving past the Iblis, the creature vanishing into dust.

Sam was on his way, and he'd done something to both his father and Bobby Singer. The reality of the Iblis's statement bore heavy on Marshal's mind, the truth about Sam hitting him like a ton of bricks. Until that point he had held on to the tiny belief that many, just maybe, everyone was wrong about the young man's future. But now, well, now he was certain; Sam wasn't the boy he had thought.

Marshal's heart began to beat fast as be neared the room Dean was being held in, the heavy door standing ajar. He had closed it, he knew that for certain. He rushed over, pulling the door open, cursing as his eyes adjusted to the dark room. Dean Winchester was gone, the cot he had been tied to baring nothing more than a few blood soaked ropes. But how had the Iblis nots sensed it?

The amulet. In all his planning and preparations, Marshal had forgotten about that stupid amulet. He knew what it could do, knew it could block Dean's presence from any supernatural being, and Marshal cursed again. He had to find Dean before Sam did, or everything would have been for nothing.


	20. Chapter 20

_finally!! sorry about the wait, this chapter was giving me serious problems!! but now, it's finally done. only one more chappy after this left. thank you all so much for the great, great reviews, they really make my day. and to laineau, i hope you enjoyed your b-day present. it only took me from june till now to write. lol._

_as always, let me know what you think. :)_

_PS: this chapter is pretty long, but i couldnt find a good place to break it. _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 20

Dean slid down the wall of the warehouse, his body shaking with the energy he was expending. He couldn't find anything to use for support as he walked and was therefore forced to put at least some weight on his damaged knee. And even some weight was too much. He was breathing hard, his body giving out no matter how much he tried to fight it. He had to stay strong, though, had to get to Sam, to stop the rest of his family from doing what he knew they were planning. He couldn't let Sam give himself up, couldn't let him embrace the power within him. Sam was too good for that, had too much future ahead of him to give it all up to save his wayward brother.

Dean wished his family would see that, wished the other two would stop sacrificing themselves, stop putting themselves in danger to save him. Dean knew he had no future, no life beyond the hunt, and he was ok with that. He had come to terms with his fate, had excepted the inevitable, because he knew he could give Sammy a chance, and in the end, that's all that mattered. But his father didn't seem to agree with that, and Dean refused to let John ruin everything his life had been. Sam was going to get free of this, was going to move on, and Dean refused to let anyone stand in the way.

He blinked several times, fighting against the darkness, beating back the silent void that was trying to claim him. He had to move, had to keep himself hidden from Marshal until he could get a hold of his father and tell him what was really going on. Dean pushed off the cold ground, leaning back against the wall of the building, his right leg still held off the ground. He could feel the fever as it ran through his body, his knee infected more than he cared to think about. But, he wasn't about to let that stop him.

Dean made his way down the side of the building, leaning against the wall each time his right leg was forced to make contact with the hard ground. It was slow going to say the least, and Dean just hoped Marshal hadn't figured out he'd made an escape. Dean was certain it wouldn't take long for the hunter to find him, hell, it wouldn't take long for a girl scout to find him at the rate he was moving. He had used his amulet just incase something other than Marshal was currently following him, but he knew the talisman wasn't able to shield him from humans. Nope, that took good old fashioned hiding.

He rounded a corner, cursing when he saw what lay in front of him. The warehouse had been built on the shores of a large lake, parts of the structure stretching out across the lake to a small island just off shore. Who the hell built a warehouse over water, Dean had no clue, but apparently, someone did. He now found himself on a rickety metal platform, the only path from his side of the warehouse to dry land.

"Oh that's freaking wonderful," Dean mumbled, taking an unsteady step out onto the catwalk. "At least it isn't that deep."

He made his way slowly across the walkway, using the flimsy rails like crutches. He stopped when he felt the rails bend and sway, breathing slowly and deliberately as his heart began to race. This whole escape was really turning out to be a bad idea. Well, escaping wasn't really the bad idea, but the route he planned left a lot to be desired. Dean took a few more minutes to regain his strength before starting across the platform once again.

He tried to put more weight on his right leg, nearly falling to the platform beneath him when a sharp pain shot through his body. This escape was going down the drain and fast. Dean shook and tested the metal bars of the walkway again, the railing creaking and giving a bit beneath the force but not breaking. And, Dean decided, it would have to be enough.

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The impala sped down the empty road, Sam fighting to keep control of himself as he drove. He could feel himself slipping, flashes of the warehouse and Dean invading his mind, stealing away his focus. He tried to force them from him, tried to put up his defenses, but he was coming to realize that it might be too late. The powers were building in him, and while he could focus them and channel them, he couldn't figure out how to stop them. He'd opened a floodgate, and now he was afraid he'd be lost in the currents of his own mind.

He pulled up outside the warehouse, his mind screaming as he doubled over in the driver's seat, his head resting on the warn steering wheel. He felt like his head was going to explode-- images and emotions flooding through him, attacking him, destroying him. Each thought was fighting for supremacy, fighting for a place in his over crowded mind, fighting for control. He could feel the darkness growing in him, pulling him away from the world around him, controlling him like a puppet.

Sam fought to hold onto his senses. He made himself aware of the air around him, of the feel of the leather seat, the sweat on his face. The void was calling to him, draining him, ripping into him like claws, but he knew he couldn't give into it. He had felt the void before, but it had never been this strong, this over powering. Then again, he'd never actually tried to use his powers, it was always something that just happened.

The reality of it all suddenly dawned on Sam, the truth of what he'd done crushing him along with the void. He'd given into it, used it, let it become apart of him. Ever since the Asura he'd fought the powers, ignored them, wished them away. But his dad and Bobby had asked him to use them, and use them he did, and that was now proving to be a terrible decision. He made them a part of him, and they were now taking over.

Sam tried to calm his breathing, lifting up his head to survey the area around him. His vision blurred and dimmed, his body fighting against the unnatural powers growing inside him. He could see the warehouse in front of him, see lights reflected on the water like gossamer strings. He knew he was really there, but he couldn't keep his mind focused. It was like having ten visions at once, and the pain blinding him.

Sam could feel Dean's pain, his own body buckling with the agony. Sam could feel his father's fears, his heart racing with adrenaline that was not his own. He could feel Bobby, the older hunter's mind drifting back through time, to a place where losing Sam and Dean wasn't an everyday fear. He could feel Marshal Williamson, the hunter's pulse quickening as he soaked up the hunt, stalking his prey. And Sam could feel something else, standing just beyond the void, calling to him with soothing words, promising paradise on the other side of the darkness.

The young hunter fell from the car, his overworked body resting in the dirt for who knew how long. He had to get to his brother, had to get to Dean. Sam took several long breaths, focusing on his brother, letting Dean's strengths and weaknesses invade his mind, wrap around his soul. Slowly, Sam pushed himself off the ground, the power within him giving him a strength he shouldn't have had. Without even shutting the car door, Sam followed his senses, letting his mind focus entirely on the beacon that was his brother.

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Marshal Williamson stalked his prey, moving around the large building slowly but with purpose. He didn't know exactly where Dean went, but he had a pretty good guess-- the kid was probably headed to dry land. The hunter didn't need to move fast though, hell, Dean was probably crawling at this point. No, he'd find him in due time, right now he was having way too much fun with his newest 'hunt'. The boy was good, Marshal had to give him that, but he was still human, and humans made mistakes.

Marshal stowed his gun, he'd never really liked the idea of shooting fish in a barrel. And really, he wasn't trying to kill Dean, not unless he had to. He knew he had to get Sam to use his powers, knew he had to get the young man to embrace them, and as always, Dean was trapped in the middle of it all. For Dean, Sam would do anything, of that Marshal Williamson was certain. He just needed to keep pushing, needed Sam to believe that he'd lose his brother, that accepting the powers was the only way to save Dean.

The hunter moved stealthily around a corner, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the boy. Dean was on a catwalk a few floors below Marshal, the twenty eight year old sliding across the metal walkway, his right leg dragging behind him as he struggled to pull himself forward. Marshal stood where he was, watching the scene unfold beneath him, his adrenaline growing as he watched the boy below him. Everything was falling into place.

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John cursed as he pulled up into the dirt lot next to the abandoned warehouse. He should have seen this coming, should have known what was happening with his boys. But, like always, he'd turned away from it, focusing instead on the hunt, and this time John was afraid he'd lost everything. He jumped from the truck before the engine had completely died, his heart racing as he made his way to the open door of the impala. He hadn't expected anyone to be in the car, but seeing the emptiness himself was like a stab wound to his chest.

His boys were out there somewhere, suffering and alone, and John had never felt like more of a failure. How had everything come to this? For the last year his mind had wandered back to that fateful night, traveling down that dark road, the shadows still haunting him. Everything had changed that night, his entire world turning on him, the planet beneath him shifting-- and now he was afraid he'd lost his grip completely. Sam had attacked him, had turned on him, and he wasn't possessed. No, the boy that had stood before him was one hundred percent Sam.

"Johnny?" Bobby's voice broke through John's stupor, pulling the hunter back into the moment.

John knew he had to focus, knew he couldn't let himself fall into the darkness that was surrounding him. He hadn't lost his boys yet, and god help whoever tried to steal them away.

"I'm ok."

"We'll find them, John."

"How many times can we come this close, Bobby? I mean--" John stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing. "How much longer do I have to watch them suffer?"

"Let's just work on getting them back, Johnny. We'll work on everything else when we know they're safe."

"That's just it. They're never safe. This is the second time Dean was taken from the hotel room, hell this whole thing started when he got out of the car to look for a tape. They're being hunted, Bobby-- by the supernatural and the hunting world."

"We've figured it out before and we'll figure it out again. All we've got left is the fight in us, John, and I for one am gonna show whatever son of a bitch that's out there that Sam and Dean aren't gonna go easily."

John's long time friend's words filled him with a strength he didn't think he had. Bobby had known the boys since they were young, had watched them grow, and John knew that the often gruff and closed off hunter considered Sam and Dean his own family. Bobby was right-- the only way those evils sons of bitches would get Sam and Dean was by walking over his dead body.

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Sam slid quietly around the corner of the building, the area around him fading in and out like a poorly tuned radio. Every instinct told him to fight it, to block out the powers. They belonged to a demon, they weren't something he was supposed to have, let alone use. No, he knew it was wrong, knew it had to be ignored, but there was still that voice in the back of his head. He could use this power to help his brother, give something back to the man that had given him everything for over two decades.

_'You can save him.'_

Sam knew it was true. Finally, he had the power to save his brother. For so long Dean had been the one to hold the family together, the one overlooked as Sam and John pushed forward, taking more and more from Dean with each passing day. But now, finally, Sam could do something about that.

The world around him came into focus with his new resolve, his senses heightening to levels he had never before felt. He could feel not only himself, but everyone around him. He knew his father and Bobby were there, the older men's adrenaline rushing through Sam, urging him on. And he could once again feel Dean, as though he was standing right next to his brother. Sam blinked several times, his mind shifting from the world before him to that in his mind. It was a surreal feeling to say the least, but it was helping him save his brother, and at that moment, that was all Sam could think about.

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Dean fell against the metal of the catwalk, his vision swimming as his body fought against itself. He cursed-- everything he had worked his entire life for was hanging in the balance, and he couldn't even find the strength to take a few steps. He could feel his entire life slipping away, his body aching as both fever and failure took over. After all he'd been through, after everything he and his family had fought, they were going to be taken down now, by something he should have been able to fight.

Dean laid still for a few moments, willing his body to respond, fighting against the darkness he knew was claiming him. Sam had already started to use the powers, Dean knew that the moment he felt Sam in the room with him, the moment he realized Sam wasn't exactly astral projecting. No, Sam was using the core of the powers the Asura had given him, and Dean knew it was just a matter of time before his little brother was lost to them forever.

Dean's heart froze in his chest when he felt the catwalk sway, the thump of boots hitting metal flooding into his fevered mind. The young hunter struggled to sit, leaning against one of the metal supports that held up the handrails. Dean strengthened his grip when he felt himself slide backwards. There was a good three feet of space between each support and he knew that, if he wasn't careful, he was going to fall right off the catwalk and into the shallow water below.

"Looks like you lose, Winchester." Marshal Williamson stood defiantly before Dean, his eyes growing with a strange hunger.

Dean had met him before on a few occasions, and he had once thought of the other hunter as a good man. But then, Dean had thought the same thing about Joshua and look where that had gotten him. If there was one thing the middle Winchester had learned in his short life it was that things were never what they appeared to be. It was a reality that had been plaguing his small family for the past year, something he hadn't been able to shake. People Dean had trusted his entire life had turned on him, threatened him, and changed Sam forever. And in that instant Dean knew, there was no one he could rely on other than his family.

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Marshal's blood raced with excitement, the hairs on his arms standing on end as adrenaline coursed through his body. He looked down on Dean, watching as the young hunter tried to force himself to his knees, his weak arms wrapped around one of the supporting metal beams. The older hunter didn't really know why he had such a loathing of Dean-- after all, he'd known the boy, and he wasn't a bad kid. He was just a hunter, just someone else mixed up in the mess that was good and evil.

_'He'll destroy you. Turn your back on him and he'll kill you, just like Joshua. They're the reason they're dead, all of them. Caleb, Jim-- everyone is because of the Winchesters.'_

Marshal knew the Iblis was right, knew what would happen if the Winchesters were allowed to go on the way they were. That single family had brought this all down on the hunting community, the least they could do was give Sam up for the cause. The boy had such a power inside him, a force that could be used for the greater good, but it was a force that would never be wielded as long as Dean stood in the way.

The crazed hunter smiled when he hear Sam's distant voice, the younger man calling out for his brother, searching for the man that had been his safety net for so long. Marshal advanced on Dean, his smile growing even wider when he saw the young man stare up at him defiantly. Dean had no fight left in him, Marshal could see that in the way his body slouched against the railing, but Dean's sharp green eyes told a completely different story. They were filled with a rage Marshal didn't think the young man before him possessed, Dean's soul burning through his moss green orbs, making one final stand, even though his body was beyond the fight.

"If you just let us have him, this will all be over," Marshal began smoothly, making his way to Dean with slow, patient steps. He had no need to rush, after all, Dean wasn't going anywhere.

"Over my dead body," Dean ground out.

Marshal had to give the boy credit. Here he was, half dead, his body over taken by infection, and he was still standing his ground, still fighting off any darkness that dare lay claim to his brother. It was admirable, and for an instant, Marshal was at a loss. The hunting world needed more people like Dean, hell the normal world needed him, too.

_'He's an obstacle,'_ The Iblis spoke again, pulling Marshal back into the moment. _'He's too far gone to save. It's all about Sam now, he's the only chance you have. Dean's a lost cause. Too many years, too many missed chances. You can't fix the past, we're here to fix the future.'_

Again, Marshal knew the demon was right, knew what had to be done. Dean's time had passed, and though the older hunter wasn't at all happy about the reality of what he was facing, he knew it was something that had to be done. He couldn't let them have Dean back, couldn't let Sam turn his back on the powers he possessed. No, too much was riding on the outcome of this single day.

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Sam rounded another corner, his eyes locked on the building before him, mind coming into focus when he saw what lay ahead. No more than two hundred meters ahead was a long metal catwalk, and there, halfway down it, was his brother, and he wasn't alone. Dean was leaning against a thin metal post, his body hanging precariously over the side of the catwalk-- Marshal Williamson advancing on him as Sam watched. The younger Winchester could feel Marshal's heart beat, the need to hunt running through him like electricity.

Sam could hear the words whispered on the wind as he made his way up to the building, his eyes never once leaving Dean. The words weren't meant for him, but Sam could hear them none the less. Something was pushing Marshal on, needling him-- and he and Dean were right in the middle of it. Sam pushed the voice away before he had a chance to really hear it, choosing instead to focus on his ailing brother. He could feel Dean's tired body, feel his grip on the cold metal bar loosen. The fall wasn't all the great, and the water wasn't all that deep, but Sam knew in Dean's current condition a short fall into shallow water could still be detrimental. And then, before Sam had a chance to react, Marshal bounced.

"Dean!" Sam screamed, but the entire world seemed to be beyond his reach.

The older hunter flew into Dean with a speed Sam didn't think a mortal man should possess. The youngest Winchester watched in horror as both his brother and Marshal fell into the water below-- his heart beat quickening when Marshal surfaced alone. Sam didn't know when he began to run, all he knew was that he needed to get to his brother, that he needed to save Dean. The scene unfolded before him in slow motion, his heart pounding with each step he took. He saw Dean splash a few times, his arms reaching up out of the water, feebly trying to push Marshal away-- but he never once came up for air.

Sam's entire world stopped when his brother ceased to move, Dean's arms falling back into the water as Marshal Williamson stood, a deranged smile plastered across his face. And, it was in that instant, that Sam Winchester lost all control.

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John broke into a dead sprint when he heard Sam call out to Dean. It was a scream, a cry made in pure desperation, and it struck John down to the core. He knew there was only one thing that could make his youngest son cry out like that-- something was seriously wrong with Dean. All the world fell away as John Winchester ran. He knew Bobby was behind him, racing to the boys with the same speed and determination, but John couldn't see him. All the senior Winchester knew was that his boys were in trouble, and at that moment, that was all his tired mind could focus on.

He was moments away from losing them, he could feel it deep in his bones. They'd dogged the bullet too many times, had come to the brink too often, and John was terrified that whatever luck his boys might have had was finally gone. John heard a loud splash before he made it around the corner, the sound only spurring him on. He could feel the wind growing as he ran, the weathered hunter knowing now that whatever powers Sam had been holding back had finally been unleashed.

The moment he turned the corner, he felt his blood run cold. The very air around him was charged, liked he'd walked through a wall of pure electricity-- and the moment he saw his youngest son, John knew why. Sam wasn't Sam anymore, and it broke down everything John was. His boy was standing about twenty feet from the edge of the lake, his body stiller than death, eyes locked on Marshal. And to the senior Winchester it was like deja vu all over again. He was back in Shadow Pine forest, back with the Asura, back at the side of the river.

He registered Bobby running past him, registered something in the water that had caught the other hunter's attention, but John's mind was completely taken by his youngest son. Marshal was standing before him, waist deep in the murky water, his body melting away as Sam looked at him. It was the Asura's power, of that John was certain, but, where the demon had been forced to wrap its very being around Joshua, Sam was accomplishing the same thing with nothing more than his mind. And it was at that moment that John was truly and utterly afraid, at that second he realized his youngest son was more powerful than a demon two millennia old.

The winds grew as Sam's anger spiked, his body nothing more than a shell for the powers inside it. Sam's soul, his essence, was gone, replaced by the otherworldly powers he didn't want. John pushed forward, thankful not to find the same barrier that had held him at bay when Dean was shot by the Trater girls.

Dean.

John's mind cleared in that instant, the hunter finally taking in the entire scene around him. Marshal was all but gone, the water around him bubbling as he melted into his liquid grave. John's eyes slowly moved past Marshal and Sam, focusing instead on Bobby. The other hunter was moving back through the water, his back to John, dragging something toward the beach. No, not something, he was dragging Dean back toward the beach.

John raced into the lake, grabbing Dean's legs as Bobby held onto his arms. The boy was a mess, his skin pale, lips blue, body heavier and stiller than John could ever imagine. They laid him on the beach, the pair beginning CPR on Dean's lifeless body. John could still hear Marshal's final screams, but they sounded like they were coming from a great distance, another life. But the senior Winchester didn't care, his eldest son was laying in front of him, his heart still, breathing silent-- but he wasn't dead, he couldn't be. John Winchester would not allow it.

"You."

John's entire body froze at the voice, his heart hammering in his chest when he felt the air around him still. He turned slowly to face his youngest son, the storm dying down the closer Sam got to him. It was almost like his youngest had constructed a barrier around himself, blocking out everything that could effect him, shutting out the entire world before it could hurt him.

"You did this to him."

Sam's eyes were still his own brown, but they were hollow, empty of everything that made Sam Sam. He took another menacing step toward John, the older hunter's skin prickling as his son's power hit him.

"Sammy, please."

"You made us into what we are." The voice that issued from Sam wasn't quite his own. It still sounded like him, but it was deeper than it should have been, the words hitting John as though he'd been physically punched.

"I was trying to save you," John breathed, standing slowly despite the pain. Sam was attacking him, and a part of John knew he deserved it. Bobby was still trying to bring Dean back, but even if he could, it was still too late. Over twenty years ago John had been given perfection, and now it was all lying in ruins around him.

"You destroyed him."

'Him,' John thought, 'not us.' With gut wrenching clarity, John understood. Sam was still trying to protect Dean, to save his brother, and while John had never physically hurt his eldest, he'd put him through enough emotional torture to last three life times. And Sam saw that.

"Sammy, please, I know you're still in there. I know you can fight this."

"I know I can, too."

"You don't want to do this."

"You'll just hurt him again. I can fix this."

"I know you can, Sam. But I wanna fix this, too. Please, son, I'm begging you, give me the chance to be you're father."

"I've given you enough chances."

"I know you have."

"Give me one good reason to let you stay?"

"I don't want you to ruin yourself because of me. I don't want you to destroy your soul because of the mistakes I made. God, Sam, I'm so damn sorry. But you're better than this. And I swear, I'll leave. If that's what you really want, I'll go."

John's heart shattered into a thousand pieces when the winds began to die down, the electricity and fire that had been running through him mere moments before disappearing as the world around him calmed. That was it, he'd lost them. He'd promised to stay away, to turn around and never look back, and it appeared as though Sam was going to hold him to that promise. It was like watching them die, like watching Mary die all over again.

Everything he'd ever fought for was vanishing before his eyes, being taken away from him by the people he loved most. It was something John knew he'd never be able to handle, but it was something he also had no control over. And maybe Sam was right, maybe they were better off without him around. Lord knew Dean was a wreck, and Sam didn't seem to be in much better shape.

A sudden cough pulled John from his spiraling mind, the winds finally dying completely as Sam snapped back into himself, the sound of his brother breathing enough to silence whatever was happening inside him. The two rushed to Bobby and Dean, the family friend holding the middle Winchester up against his chest. Dean looked terrible, and while he was now breathing, John knew he was far from safe.

"He needs a hospital," John spoke solemnly, cupping Dean's face in his hands. For the first time in a long time, though, it wasn't an order. He looked up into Sam's face, his dark eyes imploring, and broken. If he had to give them up to keep them alive, then so be it.


	21. Chapter 21

_first off, thank you all so, so much for the great reviews and for sticking with this story, it took a long time for me to write, and i'm sorry. i'm glad everyone enjoyed it :) i realized while writing this story, that i wouldnt be able to give the series proper closure with just one story, so keep your eyes peeled, cause there will be a 5th and final installment of the 'shadow stalker' series coming out in april. :) it'll be called 'a door in the dark' _

_so thank you all once again :D as always, let me know what you think. _

**AND OVER AGAIN**

Chapter 21

Bobby sat in the corner of the hospital room, his mind lost as he listened to the steady beep and hum of the monitors and machines. The doctor had assured them Dean would be fine, but that didn't lessen the weight in Bobby's soul one bit. Even if the young hunter pulled through, he would still be far from ok. Dean had been in the hospital over a week now, the boy barely alive when they'd brought him in-- and the memories of that first day still made Bobby ill. Dean was weaker than he had ever seen him before, an infection having run ramped through the young man's body as a result of the botched surgery.

Bobby still couldn't believe he'd missed all the classic signs of infection, couldn't believe Dean had managed to hide something so serious from them all. But then, Bobby thought, wanting to kick himself, he hadn't really been paying enough attention-- and lord knew, if Dean was hiding something, it would take a master to figure it out. It was like trying to find a treasure while blindfolded, and Bobby sworn then , that he would never overlook the young hunter again. Dean was hurting, the older man could see that now, and all he wanted to do was help him.

It was more than that, though, and he knew it. The incident at the warehouse shook Bobby to the very core. He had never dreamed Sam could act that way, had never imagined the true magnitude of the power inside the youngest Winchester. But now he knew, and that changed everything. The small Winchester family had become his own, and now he was being forced to watch it shatter, knowing that it may prove impossible to put back together. He had known the boys since they were children, and while he'd had more than a few falling outs with John, the three men were still the closest thing to family he'd had in a very long time.

"Bobby?"

Bobby turned at the voice, John standing in the doorway. In the week since they'd brought Dean to the hospital John was more distant than Bobby had ever remembered him being, and that was saying something. The senior Winchester loved his kids, Singer had never doubted that for a second, but he just wasn't all that good at showing it. But then, Bobby couldn't really blame him. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one, and the way Mary died, though he'd never witnessed anything as terrible first had, still shook Bobby-- and lord only knew what it had done to John.

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"Can I speak to you?" John signaled toward the hall.

"Sure." Bobby turned back toward the bed, casting an eye on Dean and Sam.

The scene was much the same as it had been, Dean asleep in the bed, battered and bruised but thankfully alive, while Sam slept in a chair by his side. The youngest Winchester hadn't moved since his brother was brought in, and Bobby knew Sam wouldn't give up his vigil until Dean was cleared to leave. Bobby sighed, those boys meant too much to each other, and he was afraid that, one day, it was going to be the death of them.

"What's up?" Bobby asked after pulling the door closed.

"I need you to watch out for them, Bobby."

Bobby wanted to get mad, hell, he wanted to start swinging at the man before him, but the look on John's face and the sound of his voice made him stand down. John was broken, it was obvious to anyone with eyes, and that simple fact was almost too much for the seasoned hunter to bear. After all, he'd seen his friend through a lot of hard times, but Bobby knew, this was going to be the hardest time of all for John Winchester.

He wasn't an idiot, he'd seen Sam at the warehouse, had heard the words that were meant for John-- and while he tried to tell his old friend that it wasn't really Sam talking, Bobby knew it was just a lie. They were Sam's words, Sam's anger, Sam's power, and Bobby was still trying to come to terms with the entire event. He knew Sam didn't really want to push his father away, knew the boys needed their dad, but damn if he knew how to make them all see it. Hell, even Dean had kept his mouth shut about it all. Though Bobby guessed that was more because of exhaustion than anger.

He could see it written all over the young man's face, and it had been there since they were young. Holding together the Winchesters was a job fit for an army, and Dean was doing it all alone. He was a strong boy, stronger than many men Bobby had met, but everyone has a breaking point, and Dean had finally reached his. So now, instead of standing against the tide, instead of fighting the inevitable, he just laid silent, letting Sam take over the helm.

"He didn't mean it, John," Bobby began, though he knew it was in vein. Once a Winchester makes up his mind, there's no turning back.

"Yes he did, Bobby, and I can't blame him. I've screwed up too many times. Just, please, I need to know you'll be there for them."

"You know I will."

"Thank you, for everything, Bobby." John shook his long time friend's hand, Bobby nearly crumbling beneath the weight the senior Winchester was placing on his shoulders.

Bobby watched John as he disappeared down the long hall, the world around him stilling in that moment. Everything he'd known for the past two decades was crumbling away, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to piece it back together.

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Sam hadn't let Dean out of his sight since the warehouse, basically living in his brother's hospital room. It didn't take long for the staff to give up on throwing him out, and his father had never once shown his face-- the only person that had told him to get some food and rest was Bobby, and even he seemed half hearted about it. And so he stayed, listening to every beep and hum of the monitor, making sure his brother would indeed be ok.

A part of Sam wanted his father there, he couldn't deny it, but an even greater part of him knew he couldn't have the older man around. Dean had taken too much weight onto his shoulders at far too young an age and it had finally succeeded in crushing him. No, Sam needed to pull Dean back together, then he could work on his father. The younger Winchester wanted to scream, every fiber of his being wrapped around the reality of what had become of his family.

He'd killed a man with the powers in him, and he had nearly done the same to his father. But what made Sam sick, what made his heart ache, was the fact that he had let that power, that anger overshadow Dean, and he'd nearly lost his brother because of it. No, for now this was the way things had to be. Dean had given up everything for him, had walked away from his own life to keep watch over his little brother, and Sam knew it was time to return the favor. If there was a place for John in the future, then so be it, but at that moment in time, there was only enough room in Sam's battered soul for his brother-- and lord knew, Dean needed someone to save him.

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The Iblis stood outside the old hospital, oblivious to the rain as it watched the black truck drive off into the night. It had underestimated the family-- but now it knew what fighting the Winchesters really meant, and next time, it would be ready.


End file.
